


Freckles

by OriBunny



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cutting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-24 21:53:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriBunny/pseuds/OriBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is in his senior year at Trost High, and he is stuck in the rut of High School life. One day, he meets Marco, a Junior, who is new to this school, and befriends him, only to figure out later that Marco has been suicidal for three years, cuts, and is in extreme emotional turmoil, despite how happy he acts around Jean. Jean tries to help Marco through this by giving him the love he never had, and figures out that what he thought was friendly love, was really much more than that.<br/>(Gomen, I'm bad at summaries...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Life is boring

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for reading! This will be multi-chaptered, and there will be 2 new chapters per week at least. If suicidal thoughts or cutting bothers you, please don't read this.   
> I promise it's better than the summary seems!  
> Enjoy!

I can’t really pinpoint exactly when it was that I became completely and utterly bored and irritated with life. It may have been sometime between when my parents decided I needed a ‘higher education’ and sent me to Trost High, and stuck me in an apartment by myself for the entirety of my high school career, or when I found that this particular school was full of people that couldn’t break out of the social norm to save their lives. I haven’t met one person who doesn’t spend all of their time conforming and trying so damn hard to fit in. It’s true here more than any other school I’ve been to, so it’s probably quite obvious how bad it is. I, Jean Kirschtein, am unfathomably bored with my life.

It’s a Monday, the first day of my senior year. It’s around 6:00am that I’m finally rolling out of bed, and the cold wooden floor of my apartment is never kind to me in the mornings, especially this early. A long groan escaped my mouth, mostly out of dread of the impending doom that is high school. But it’s my last year, so honestly I don’t give a shit at all. I opted for the lazy approach and settled for black track pants and a dark green sweatshirt, it being September, and it was already pretty chilly here. I never bring anything to school, so that morning I just sat lazily on the counter eating cereal, waiting for 7:00 to roll around so I could start walking to school. I could probably have a car if I wanted because my parents are loaded, and admittedly I’m pretty spoiled, but I figure that with the amount of food I shove down my throat on a daily basis, walking will keep me from growing anymore of a little pouch on my stomach.

I’ve never had any friends at school, so I always left with just enough time to get me there before the bell, with no extra time. I didn’t wanna be there any longer than I absolutely had to. When I got there, everyone looked as depressed as I expected them too, all talking sullenly about their great summers that they had to leave behind. Frankly the only thing I’d be missing was waking up whenever I want to. Still, I guess that’s what comes with having friends. I talked to a few people last year, like this boy Connie who was pretty cool. But he started dating this really eccentric girl Sasha, and lost interest in his small friendship with me. It was okay though. I’m better off not having people follow me around, always interrupting my thoughts.

I realized that I had already reached my locker to grab a pencil and notebook to write down any supplies I’d need for the year. It was sad how every day seemed to be so monotonous that it flew by without any recognition of the events that went on anymore. It was only my first day back and I was already set so into the stupid routine that my brain wasn’t even bothering to register that I had been doing anything. I sighed a bit louder than I meant to before dialing in my combination and throwing the door open. I was quick to grab what I needed and then like clockwork walked to whatever my first class was. I looked down at my schedule to confirm that it was an art class. It made me happy to know that this year I at least got to start my day with an easy and somewhat fun class and not crazy ass math or science, both of which I’ve never had higher than a C- in.

When I walked in everyone looked the same as they did last year, but I just knew that they all had to have gotten much more annoying. There weren’t many seats left, and I was hoping to be able to sit alone in the back of the class where no one could judge what an awful artist I was. I looked around but the only seat left near the back was next to this dark haired kid who I actually didn’t recognize at all. He seemed shy and I figured that he was new here this year, so I took the liberty of shuffling over and sitting on the stool next to his. He seemed alarmed at first by my presence but simply leaned to the other side a tiny bit and kept looking at his hands that were hidden in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. I felt kind of bad for him, because it seemed like he was literally afraid of every single person in the room, even though no one seemed to be paying any attention to him at all. 

I let whatever the teacher was saying float in one ear and out the other, because I really didn’t care about the syllabus. The whole time I just kept thinking about the weird drawn in kid next to me. I couldn’t really see his face because his hood was pulled up really far, and he was looking down at the desk intently trying to drown out the world around him. It was weird, but interesting. The bell struck me out of my thoughts though, and I wandered to my history class to once again listen to some stupid syllabus and rule list. I was really tired already, and that made the rest of the day crawl by like torture. I honestly thought that school was made just to torture teenagers. 

I internally rejoiced when the final bell rang and I could throw my two items into my locker and start the short walk home. I could already feel my bed beneath me and the sound of the TV putting me to sleep. When I turned around to leave though, I noticed a group of guys a little bigger than normal, and it seemed odd that they were all in a circle, seemingly concentrated around something. I don’t like bullies, or people who think they’re better for absolutely no reason. I don’t like people and try to distance myself from them but I would never hurt and belittle someone for no reason and I don’t like to see others doing it. I quickly walked over and peeked into the circle to see a boy sitting on the ground looking absolutely terrified out of his mind. His large book was in front of him, lying open faced with the pages stepped on and torn, and it looked like his fingers had boot prints on them. These jerks ruined his book and stepped on his hands when he tried to pick it up, knocking him down! I was pretty pissed.

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing to him?”

One of the larger ones turned towards me and snickered, his gross breath wafting up my nose and making my face wrinkle. 

“What does it matter to you? Just showing to new kid whose boss around here and to watch where his stupid ass is walking in the halls.”

He turned back to the guy on the floor and pressed his foot down on his pinky finger. 

“Walking with your head down, your hood up?? Don’t you know that’s how you fucking run into people, you inconsiderate fuck?”

I instantly recognized him from my art class, and judging by the fear on his face, he was too terrified to fight back, even though he had to be taller than I was. I grabbed the tall guy’s shirt and pulled him away from the other boy on the floor, and got as close to his face as I could, despite the pungent odor he was giving off. 

“Leave him the fuck alone, can’t you see he’s scared shitless already? Don’t kick someone who’s already down!”

I pushed him away, ignoring his sneer as he said nothing and simply called his guys off. As much as I want to say that I scared him off, he probably just got sick of hearing me go on and on about something he saw as complete bullshit. Sighing, I turned around to see the other guy huddled into his sweatshirt again, messing with his fingers, stretching them out and brushing the dirt off. I bent down and grabbed his book and started to smooth out the pages. I felt his eyes on me, but ignored the urge to look down at him until I fixed all of the pages and closed the book. He was standing now, and I had been right to assume he was taller. He had about five inches on me, and a bit more build too. He could have easily fought those guys off, and the question of why he didn’t plagued me.

“Here. Are your hands okay?”

He stepped towards me cautiously and took the book from me, nodding. His eyes were downcast, like he wanted to run from me. I took the opportunity to look at his face, seeing as I probably wouldn’t have another chance anytime soon. 

He had a square jaw, but very soft cheeks that were littered with freckles and slightly large ears that stuck out from his black hair. It was neatly trimmed, but silky and fell with little bangs that swept each side of his forehead. His eyes were bright brown, and seemed like they would be full of happiness and life, but when I looked into them they seemed sad and afraid. He was already turning around to leave, but stopped and looked over his shoulder and gave me a small tight lipped smile, uttered a very quiet and sweet ‘thank you’ then walked away. 

What was that feeling in my stomach? It was like his voice was laced with honey and the kisses that mothers give you before bed, and the way his eyes lit up for the few seconds while he thanked me, it was like he was a totally different person. But the thing I noticed the most, and the thing that seemed so impeccably beautiful about him, was his tiny brown freckles.


	2. Are you hurting?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finds out who Marco is and starts to hang out with him. But when he asks Marco over to his apartment to hang out after school, something happens that opens Jean's eyes to what type of person that he might be dealing with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was supposed to be a happy chapter where Marco is all himself and stuff, but I got a little carried away. I hope you still like it though. Gomen! Please enjoy. (If eating disorders trigger you or upset you please do not continue.)

That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the new kid who thanked me for saving him. I’ve never felt so entranced by someone before, and laying there in my bed in complete silence except the voice in my head telling me what I didn’t want to hear, I realized that I didn’t even know his name. He seemed normal enough, besides the fact that he was so drawn into himself, I doubted that he’d have any friends the whole year. I decided that tomorrow I’d at least ask his name, and as much as I wanted to pry in and be friends with him, I figured that if I slowly ease into it, he’d stop being so shy and timid. 

But damn those freckles. I found myself thinking about his face, and how in that small moment, it had lit up, like all the colors in the rainbow, or the sun, and I couldn’t help but drink it up. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But, I’m not gay. This sounds gay right? I’ve always liked girls, and I found it especially weird that since I’d been thinking about him, the girl I’d had a crush on since ninth grade hadn’t even crossed my mind. He was all I thought about the whole night after school. Okay, so maybe…Oh I don’t know. 

That next day, the freckled boy wasn’t at school. I felt my stomach drop into the floor out of disappointment. I honestly couldn’t understand why someone would skip school on the second day. I mean, I despise school, and I wait at least a month before skipping days. I felt the day creep by out of loneliness, something I haven’t felt in years out of lack of friends. I just wanted to know his name, and since teachers didn’t take roll out loud, I’d have to wait until he showed up again, which I hoped would be tomorrow. 

That day after school I decided to walk a longer way home than usual because it was really nice outside, and I had been a potato lately and needed some extra exercise. It did me well, because I got my mind off of the two questions that were pestering me the entire day, and honestly I just wanted to know the answers more than anything. Why didn’t he fight back? Who exactly was he? They ate at me, such stupid questions, and I found myself doing even the most menial activities very aggressively that night. I put the pot for my ramen on the stove aggressively, I turned on the shower aggressively, I even pulled the covers over my head when I went to sleep aggressively. I wasn’t in a bad mood, I was just frustrated, and I needed the next day of school to come with a tall freckled boy in tow.

Well, here I was in art class, standing in the doorway and staring into the back of the room at a familiar dark haired boy. Thank God. I quickly walked back and sat in my seat, staring at him through the corner of my eyes. Today he wore a different sweatshirt, this one black with green drawstrings in the hood. It was bland, and he wore it with light wash jeans and converse. I noticed an improvement in his behavior though, in that he wore no hood today, simply stared emptily at the space in front of him. His hair looked slightly disheveled, and he had extremely dark bags underneath his eyes, which worried me because they were the kind that came with stress and no sleep. I slowly found myself reaching over to tap his shoulder, which earned me a startled twitch and a gasp before he peered over at me with his amber eyes filled to the brim with curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

He seemed perplexed at the question, like I had asked him to tell me how many miles away the sun is from Earth. I noticed that his hands were trembling, and a dust of red had made its way across his face. He shifted his gaze back to the table and mumbled something that I didn’t hear at all. 

“Sorry, huh?”

“M-Marco.”

Ah, so that’s what it was. It was a decent name, and it fit him extremely well. His face, adorned with those cute freckles, definitely fit the name Marco. One more question and then I decided to leave him alone, seeing as how he was acting like I was attacking him or something.

“Say, Marco, about yesterday…You could have totally beaten the crap out of those guys. Why didn’t you fight back?”

He seemed alarmed and nervous, as if the answer he was about to give me was wrong in some terms, and I couldn’t help but feel the urge to place my hands on his and tell him that it was okay. I didn’t though, but I really wanted to.

“Well, I don’t like fighting. I just want to exist.”

What he said struck me in a way that I still can’t explain. He just wants to exist? What was that supposed to mean? That he didn’t care what happened around him? He was just, here? He sounded like he was desperate to be alive, but didn’t want to interact. He just wanted to breathe. At that moment, my interest in him sparked like lightning coursing through my veins. I needed to know him, to be around him, and to make him realize that life, as boring as I thought it was, definitely consisted of more than existing. 

Then, he spoke again, which surprised me, because it was of his own accord. 

“What about you? You’re name…”

“Oh, it’s Jean.”

“Jean…”

I felt myself blushing a bit, the way he said my name ringing in my ears. I kept telling myself, Jesus Jean you know each other’s names, you’re not getting married. But it still made me feel good. This was the first step to being friends with him, and that was okay with me. With that, the rest of class went by fast, because I was so happy that nothing could put me in a foul mood, and I had a feeling that the fearful aura emanating off of Marco had slightly shifted into something more…Comfortable. Which made me even happier.

That day at lunch, I saw Marco sitting alone, and naturally, I walked over and sat down next to him and gave him a smile, which he returned with the same tight lipped smile he had given me a couple days ago when I chased those guys away. It didn’t seem like his natural smile, like he was reserving it, and it made me want to do anything to see his real smile. He was eating a sandwich, munching on it silently and sketching something that I couldn’t see well in a notebook that looked like it was five years old. Its pages were yellowed and tattered and the cover had scribbles and marker all over it, but the way he kept it close to his body showed me that it was important, so I let the matter rest. I wanted to ask him if he wanted to hang out, but I couldn’t fit together the stupid words. They were lodged in my throat begging to be spilled, but I couldn’t. I decided to just wait until math class, which I remembered from the first day I had with him also, and I’d pass him a note, since I was apparently suddenly shy for some reason.

I did exactly that too. When the teacher wasn’t looking I read over my note again, which simply read “Come over after school? ~Jean”, and crumpled it up, tossing it lightly two seats back. It landed squarely on Marco’s desk, startling him out of whatever thoughts he seemed to be having. He looked around and when his eyes met with mine he noticeably softened his expression and hurriedly smoothed out the note. I kept looking back to see if he was writing back, but he was just staring at it, unsure of what to do. He looked back up at me, confused, and I just made a writing gesture with me hand. Seconds later I felt a light hit on the back of my head and picked up the note. When I read it I was a bit put off by the response. “Why?” Why? I actually didn’t have an exact answer for him. I can’t stop thinking about you? You’re so beautiful I just want to spend time with you? What was I supposed to say? I settled on something not creepy but definitely something that I felt would make him happy. “Because we’re friends, yeah?”

The look on his face would stick with me for my whole life, I was sure of it. He instantly had a heavy blush spreading across his cheeks, but the grin on his face was genuine, and though it was small it made my heart skip. When he wrote back a simple “Yeah!” I couldn’t have been happier. I told him to meet me at my locker and gave him the number, and that was the end of the conversation, but it still sent me through the last two classes with a smile and an air of confidence. 

When I saw him walking towards my locker I instantly felt the shyness creeping back up on me. He was smiling at me but once again it was one of those forced smiles, like he thought I’d be disappointed if he didn’t. 

“Ah, hey Marco. Let’s get going.”

He simply nodded, clutching his book to his chest, and pulled his hood up over his head once we walked outside. It was odd how he always wore that, like a shield. He stayed close to me, his eyes darting all around him and his breath quickened like he was in shock over something.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah…Fine.”

I didn’t believe him, but to each their own. I simply kept walking down the street, noticing that the further we got from school, the more relaxed he got. When we got to my apartment building, I led him inside quickly, noticing that it was soon going to rain, and I didn’t want to get one drop on me lest I freeze to death. We made it to my apartment quickly since it was on the first floor and shuffled inside. It was pretty dark because I’m a hermit and I hate the sunlight wrecking my peaceful bedroom and hurting my eyes when I wake up, so my black curtains are always drawn closed. Marco stood in the foyer for about three minutes before I gestured him into my room to put his stuff down, which he did, albeit slowly. I found it cute how he was hesitant with everything he did, even the steps he took when he walked. I sat on my bed and motioned for him to sit next to me, but instead he sloppily fell into the sheets and closed his eyes. A content smile snaked its way onto his face, and for a moment I was confused, but I quickly berated myself for second guessing this amazing occurrence.

“Hey Marco, how come you’re so shy at school and stuff? You look like you think everyone will drop kick you if you even breathe the wrong way.”

He rolled a bit, laying on his side to face me and look up at me.

“I guess I’m just used to it. I’m really uncomfortable around a lot of people. Like, right now with just you I’m fine. I feel normal, but when I’m at school…I get really bad anxiety.”

That was the most I’ve ever heard him speak, and it was music to my ears. It was so nice. For about three hours we just laid in my bed and talked, getting to know each other. He told me he likes reading a lot, and when he can he likes to go to the beach. I was never one for books in my free time, but when he talked about reading, his face lit up, and he told me that it’s a way for him to escape. That made me want to raid the library, read all of his favorite books, and talk to him about them all the time. I felt like that would make him happy.

Around six, I hear our stomachs start to get a bit loud, and I realized that it was already dinner time, which was shocking, because three hours with Marco felt like ten minutes. I stood up and walked into the kitchen and called back in to Marco.

“Do you want dinner? I’m getting takeout!”

He hesitated, which was odd, because I heard his stomach growling like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Ehh, no thanks. I’m fine.”

“You are not, I know you’re hungry!”

I heard a grumble, surprisingly, and moments later he shuffled out of my room and walked over to me. What he did next made my stomach flip around, causing me to promptly lose my appetite. He lifted his shirt to reveal an extremely thin stomach. His hipbones were so defined, and the skin was so pale, like he’d worn a shirt from birth until now. I could see the bottom curve of his ribs too, just a tiny bit, but enough to obviously be unhealthy. He looked at me with a very serious face and spoke with a voice that sounded like someone who had just been kicked in the face and was on the verge of tears. 

“It doesn’t matter if I’m ‘hungry’. If I eat anymore today, I’ll get fat, see?”

With that, he dropped his sweatshirt back down and walked back into my room. I heard him sit back on the bed, and I could do nothing but stand there and fight back tears. That was when I knew, there’s something really wrong in Marco’s life. There has been for a really long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this time I promise we'll get to see more happy Marco! I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. To know him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean gets to know Marco a little better and their friendship starts to progress in the best of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here's a happy chapter for all of you who were disappointed with the dark turn the last chapter took! I promise it's cute!

I was incredibly sad after that day. Marco had acted like it hadn’t even happened and when he saw me at school he would run up to me smiling, saying my name in that stupid sweet voice. It was eating at me, what happened, and the week passed with Marco not saying one word about it or acting that way again. It worried me to the core, though, because I’ve never had to deal with someone that had disorders or issues that serious. The way he said it was NOT in a joking manor, and even I could see right through his attitude the rest of the night. 

That week had went by quickly, with me inviting Marco over again a total of two times, and both times all we did was sit on the living room floor and watch movies until we fell asleep in a head of pillows and blankets against the couch. Both nights, I watched Marco sleep, and as creepy as I felt, I couldn’t tear my eyes away or let them close until I physically could not keep them open. He was the most beautiful in my eyes, and there was no reason presentable to me that was good enough to tell me I shouldn’t pursue the freckled boy. 

The day that I invited him over next was a Saturday, so I already knew he’d be staying the night instead of heading home at ten or eleven at night. I hadn’t even heard him at the door, so when he had let himself in and walked into my room, where I had been laying in nothing but boxers, spread across the bed asleep, it startled me awake. I wasn’t a very heavy sleeper, so when he had walked in, his shoes on the wood floor alerted me of his presence. Of course, I was instantly embarrassed that he saw me that way, and the fact that I could even feel my bedhead just made it worse. But, though I was tired, waking up to that smiling face was something I wish would happen more often. 

“Good afternoon Jean. Did you have a good nap?”

“Ngghh...Yeah…”

I stood up groggily, not even bothering at this point to pull pants on, and made my way into the kitchen to get some coffee for the two of us. I noticed that Marco downed caffeinated and sugar pumped coffee like it was going out of style, which made me wonder why he needed so much coffee. Maybe he stayed up until the morning hours doing homework or something. When we finally plopped back down on the couch, I turned the TV on to our favorite channel and started sipping at the coffee I had made.

“Marco…”

He looked worried at the way his name came from my mouth, his hands halting the coffee mug an inch from his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Marco I just…I can’t let what happened last week go. I can’t. It’s eating me alive and I cannot just let it slide like it didn’t happen.”

Now I noticed that Marco looked really confused. He had no idea what I was talking about! I didn’t make it up or anything. I knew what had happened and the curiosity and honest fear had been gripping at me for that entire week of knowing Marco. He had easily come to be my best friend even in such a short amount of time and that made it very hard to hide that I felt disturbed by what happened.

“What are you even talking about Jean? If something has been bothering you for such a long time why didn’t you ask me before? What happened?”

I couldn’t stop staring at my hands and just about anything else that wasn’t Marco’s face.

“Last week, when I offered you dinner…you got all serious and sad and…told me that if you ate you’d get fat, but you looked like you hadn’t eaten in a month! I’ve been thinking about it all week…and I’m scared that you’re not okay…”

I finally grew the balls to look Marco in the face, and what I saw was the opposite of what I thought I’d see. He was smiling at me. A genuine smile that I was pretty sure I’d never seen before that. He was just calmly smiling at me, like he thought it was cute how he had scared me that day. When he spoke, though, it seemed sad and regretful, the words falling from his mouth quietly.

“Jean…It makes me very happy that you were so worried about me, but honestly, it was just a joke. I didn’t realize that it would have such an effect on you. I’m so sorry. Please just forget that it happened.”

He leaned in to hug me, and I hugged back, resting on his shoulder. I knew he lied. He up front lied to me in the sweetest way possible. It was like he knew that I wouldn’t say anything else too him, so he lied to me. I knew that he probably didn’t want to, but whatever demons he was battling, he didn’t want me to know about. I wasn’t one to pry and squirm into things that weren’t my business, but this worried me. I cared about Marco and what happened to him, so of course I wasn’t going to just give up. 

I stayed in that hug, trying to fight tears because I knew that if I ever let go of Marco I would regret it. Even if just for a day, losing him would be unbearable, which made me confused. I had only known him for about a week, but I already felt more attached to him than I ever have to anyone before. He suggested that we watch a movie and get a pizza to share, though I had a feeling that he’d only eat one piece of it. When I agreed, he seemed so happy that I decided to let the previous issue slide out of my head for a while, because what I knew I needed to do was revel and appreciate the time with the friend I’d grown so fond of. 

When we got the food, Marco and I were sitting on my small couch watching Friday the 13th, and I noticed that he was sitting a bit closer to me than he was at the beginning of the movie. I thought it was cute that he was scared, but what should I have done? If I move closer or hold his hands or something, it’ll be kinda weird…

“Marco, you okay over there?”

He nodded, and I laughed a bit, poking him in the side and making him jump. Just then I had an idea. It was almost October, and they would be having a Halloween festival soon, and I knew that I’d have no one to go with except Marco. Even though he seemed to not be a huge fan of horror, I still decided to ask him. It was still a festival, and those were meant to be fun. Besides, why wouldn’t I wanna spend a whole night with Marco, sharing cotton candy and funnel cakes, and doing stupid shit like rides and haunted houses? When I turned to him to ask, I noticed that he looked really tired, and the cup he was holding was starting to tip forward, dripping the water onto the floor. I took it from his hands and pulled his blanket closer to him. 

“Marco, I think you should go to bed now.”

He sat up at the sound of my voice and looked at me with a lazy smile, which made me smile in turn from its cuteness. I would never openly tell Marco how cute I thought he was, but at least I could watch him all the time. 

“Ah? Yeah I’m falling asleep right here aren’t I?”

I nodded, picking up all our glasses and dishes to put them in the sink before shutting the TV off and following Marco into my room. He usually would sleep on the couch, but since this was the first time he was staying all night, I told him we could just share my bed since it was a queen sized. Neither of us were uncomfortable with it.

Laying there in the dark, I could feel Marco’s body heat next to me. I truly believed that it was just me though, because right now I felt the blush not only on my cheeks but literally everywhere on my body, even my feet. I kicked the blankets off and lay my arm over my face and sighed. 

“Marco, are you asleep yet?”

“Nah, once I laid down I stopped being tired.”

“Ah, well I was just wondering if you wanna go with me to the Halloween festival next weekend? It should be fun. I just don’t really have any other friends but I wanna go.”

He giggled, turning towards me, and now that my eyes were adjusted to the dark, I could see faintly the smile on his face and the way he was propped up on one arm staring at me.

“Of course I’ll go with you! Only if you buy me cotton candy though! I love that stuff.”

“Yes yes Marco, I will buy you all of the Cotton Candy you want as long as you go on every ride and every haunted house with me.”

I saw his face visibly stiffen before he smirked, grabbing the pillow out from underneath him. 

“You’re a malicious person Jean! Sometimes I wonder how you have held back from pranking me or something every day!”

I felt the pillow collide with my face before I could even realize what he’d been up to, and laughed harder than I had in a really long time.

“Are you really going to start this game with me Marco, because I really don’t think you should!”

“Oh but Jean, I am pretty sure that I’ll win this game, so of course I’d start it.”

“YOU’RE ON FRECKLES!”

I’ve never laughed so joyously in my entire life as I did that night. Marco and I spent hours on end chasing each other around the small apartment, building barricades and launching couch pillows at each other. We both even broke a sweat, taking a pillow war break for friendly popsicles. We decided to call it a pillow war instead of a pillow fight, because hey, that was way manlier. We ended up collapsing on the living room floor around 2 in the morning, both having crashed from out caffeine high. I rolled over to face Marco, who was smiling so big I could barely handle my happiness.

“Jean, that’s the happiest I’ve been in a really long time you know.”

“Oi, ya read my mind Marco. I’m gonna be honest when I say that you’re the best friend I’ve ever had! I’m never this open with anyone else.”

“Neither am I. I guess it’s good that we met huh?”

I simply nodded, afraid that I would blurt out my strange and still developing feelings to him. I didn’t want to accidentally tell him that I loved him or anything, because even I wasn’t sure at this point. How can I love someone I’d met just over a week ago? I just didn’t know if I could hold the words back though, because he made me so damn happy. 

“Hey Jean, I never asked, why do you live alone?”

“Ohh, well my parents are super rich, and they wanted me to have a better education so they set me up in this apartment so I could go to Trost. They pay all my bills and stuff.”

“Well why don’t you have a car then?”

“Oh, I didn’t want one. Walking everywhere helps me keep my weight down because I eat so fucking much it’s crazy. I don’t care too much though. If I get a little pouch on my tummy, it doesn’t bother me. It’s cute I think.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“What about you? Who do you live with?”

“O-oh, I live with my dad…My mom died from cancer two years ago. I’ve not gotten along too well with dad since then, but its okay. We just moved here, so I started this year, obviously. I’m a junior, but I have classes with you because I guess I’m smart or something. I don’t like it at our school though. I’m not rich, so people started picking on me the first day, though I expected it.”

“Oi Oi Marco, you ALWAYS come and tell me when someone fucks with you. I know you don’t like to fight, so I’ll fight FOR you!”

His face lit up when I said that, and he leaned over to give me a hug. I felt my body tense up and tried hard to act normal, but my heart was racing. Marco smelled SO good, and the skin of his neck that my cheek rested against was so soft and also covered with those cute freckles. I was instantly melted to a puddle from one hug, and I knew I had it bad for him. 

It was about 4:00am when we both finally fell asleep on the floor. Because of this we slept until about 2 in the afternoon the next day and when I woke up it took me ten minutes to tear my eyes away from a sleeping Marco. I decided coffee was the best thing to have since my stomach was still flipping because of last night, and when I heard Marco wake up from the sound of the coffee maker, I wandered out and noticed that he had already disappeared into my bedroom.

“Do you have any shirts that are too big for you that I can borrow? This one is gross and I forgot to bring extra clothes.”

“Yeah, bottom right drawer in the dresser. Those are all shirts that are too long for me.”

He pulled out a dark purple button up that my mom had bought me a couple years ago that was an XL, which I didn’t understand since I’m a Medium and how she though an XL would even come close to fitting me escaped me. When he started pulling his shirt over his head to change, he looked over at me with an uncomfortable look that made me immediately leave the room. If he was self conscious I wasn’t gonna be that asshole who was like “Oh were both guys why do you care?” because that’s shitty and I hate when people do that. Who cares if you’re the same gender? If someone is uncomfortable, you leave, no questions. So I did. When he came out, he was in just my shirt and his…boxers. Oh god I could not handle this first thing in the morning…or afternoon. I had just woken up, and that was the point. I tried not to blush as I handed him his coffee, already memorizing the exact way he liked it. He smiled after he took a sip, leaning against the counter. 

“So, what do you wanna do today?”

I looked at him, trying to think of the answer to his question. I never went out with friends, so what do people do when they hang out? Just then, I heard my stomach growl viciously, practically begging me to dump food into it. 

“Wanna go out to eat? I’m starving.”

He nodded, setting his mug in the sink and walking back into the bedroom to pull on his jeans again. We decided on going to Fridays, because I really wanted some potato skins and he was being a dork and getting chicken fingers. I occasionally snuck a few of his fries, and we shared a huge slice of chocolate cake for dessert, which we regretted afterwards because we both walked back to the apartment with massive stomach aches, and genius Marco didn’t tell me that he was lactose intolerant, which makes chocolate a bit of a no-no for him. I pestered him about that one all day. 

When it came time for Marco to go home, I told him to keep my shirt, and he walked out with a simple goodbye. That night, sleeping alone, I once again found myself unable to stop thinking about the boy who wandered so suddenly into my life. I was also mentally preparing for the next weekend when I’d be spending at least three hours out with him, practically on a date. I’d never openly call it that, but it’s what it was pretty much. I wasn’t prepared, not in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! The next chapter will be a visit from Jean's parents and some crazy shit goes down.


	4. Admiration Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finds out how strong of a friend he really has, sparking the intense desire and need in him even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF FAMILIAL ABUSE TRIGGERS YOU DON'T FUCKING READ THIS PLEASE I S2G IF ANY OF YOU MESSAGE ME BITCHING THAT I'M NOT SPECIFIC ENOUGH BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T READ THE NOTES, I'LL BE SUPER PISSED.  
> Anywhooooo, Please don't hate me because this is a bit of a dark chapter, and it reveals some stuff that I bet you didn't know would happen! Enjoy? I guess?

It was a Monday, and it would be the start of the worst week I’d experienced in probably my entire life. It was pretty much the exact same at first, with me eating shitty store brand cereal on my counter still half asleep and considering the fact that I actually had to go into school today. I usually know exactly what to expect from a week of school, though lately nothing has really been happening as I expect because of Marco, but what I really didn’t expect was my cell phone to start buzzing at 6:30 in the morning. I picked it up lazily to read the simple word ‘Mom’ across the screen. Mind you, I don’t really talk to my parents much, so this was surprising in itself, but when I picked up and answered, she sounded overjoyed about the fact that her and my father were coming to my apartment after I got off of school. I’ve literally never had a worse start to the day, ever.

When I wandered into art class, Marco was already working on something, and as desperate as I was to look at it and praise him for the fucking fantastic person he is, all I really ended up doing was slamming my ass down in the stool next to him and put my chin on my fist, glaring at the front of the room. I was definitely in a bad mood. I cannot stand when my parents visit. They stay way too late and ask me way too many questions and there is never a time when my father misses the opportunity to remind me of what a complete waste of a son I’ve been to him. I almost didn’t realize it when Marco started talking to me, but my hearing droned in on him in enough time to hear what he’d said.

“Jean, are we hanging out after school today? I got this new movie last night, and it looks really funny and I want to watch it with you!”

Fuck he’s so cute it’s incredible.

“Oh, sure but the movie will have to wait. My parents are coming for a visit. You can still come over, if you don’t mind them being there too. But we have to like, interact with them and shit.”

“I’m fine with that. I’d love to meet your parents!”

“Ugh Marco please. You don’t want to meet my parents, trust me. They are the worst.”

“Appreciate what you have Jean.”

In all honesty I’d never heard him use that tone with me. It was motherly, but firm, like when a mother tells you she’s disappointed and angry with something you’ve done. It caught me off guard, and that’s all he said, dropping the conversation to go back to his work. I peeked over his arm only to have him turn and scoot the paper away from my line of sight, looking back at me with warning brown eyes. I had a feeling I was not supposed to see that yet. Sighing, I turned to my own project, which consisted of a blank piece of watercolor paper and a shit ton of paint that wasn’t even wet yet. I had no idea what to do. We were SUPPOSED to be doing a detailed sketch or watercolor painting of something or someone that we admire. I wasn’t a good artist at all, but I assumed by looking at Marco’s meticulous hand movements and concentrated face that he definitely was. 

“Marcoooo, I wanna see what you’re painting!”

“No way. You can see it when it’s done. It’s a surprise.”

“Party pooper…Well I have no idea what to paint! Gimme ideas…”

I started poking as his side, hoping intensely to get a reaction out of him. I severely hoped at the beginning of the weekend that I wouldn’t turn into one of those people who annoy their crush just to get attention, but here I was. He set his brush down and placed a notebook over his paper before turning to me and giving me a halfhearted glare, to which I simply smiled back.

“Jean, all you have to do is paint someone or something that you admire. I can’t give you ideas because I’m not you and I have no idea who you admire. So just try really hard okay? I’m sure whatever you do will be fantastic!”

I swear to god I’ve never blushed so hard in my whole fucking life, because what started as a scowl turned into the sweetest smile he’d given me. When the bell rang a few minutes later, I still hadn’t painted anything.

The rest of that day was boring as shit, like always. Marco gave me half of his lunch for some reason, saying he wasn’t hungry because he ate a huge breakfast, and even though I just smiled and took it, I knew that was such bullshit, I couldn’t even believe he pulled it on me. I’d never say anything though. It seemed as though he was fine. He never acted faint, and I’d never seen him throwing up or feeling sick, and his skin looked great. I promised myself I would keep my stupid mouth shut until it looked like he was actually in trouble. After math class, I caught some guys trying to fuck with Marco again, so I ended up having to go see the principal, which sucked because I almost got a detention, and if it hadn’t been for Marco insisting on coming with me to explain the situation, I probably would have been staying after school that Friday. 

Finally the fucking day ended. The stupid Monday that became the bane of my existence that week was finally over and I could go home, not like home was much better seeing as the parents from hell were coming over. I swear I’ve never walked home slower in my life, because I knew that they would already be there, and I was already scarred from all their bullshit. I didn’t wanna have my parents scare Marco away before I even got the chance to weasel my way deep into our friendship. 

When we walked up to the door of my apartment, I could already hear them inside, talking about god knows what and who cares what. 

“Okay Marco, just, please ignore like, everything they say. Seriously.”

He only rolled his eyes, stepping in front of me to turn the knob and throw the door open, walking in like he lived there, which he practically did now. I followed in behind him and saw the looks of confusion on my parents’ faces from seeing Marco walk in before me. I almost vomited at the stupid looks they held, like seeing me with a friend was so fucking foreign, and even though it was, they could have withheld their surprise a bit as to not offend their son like they do any time I ever see them. Marco was the first to speak, using that overly cheerful voice he blurted out whenever he spoke to adults. I assumed it was habit, but maybe he was a bit more of a sadistic suck up than I thought.

“Hi! I’m Marco, Jean’s friend. I just moved here so Jean’s kinda my only friend, so I’ve been over here a lot in the past week!”

My mom had the dumbest grin on her face as she walked across the room to shake Marco’s hand. My dad, like the lazy asshole he is, only grunted in acknowledgement and continued to watch TV. How fucking rude. This is what I meant. My mom was overbearingly, and so falsely, kind, while my father could have won the shithead of the year award if there ever was one. 

“Hello Marco! Oh it’s so nice to see that Jean finally made a friend! You know, I’m sure you’ve already figured it out, but he’d not exactly the best with people. He even offs his own grandparents whenever holidays roll around can you believe it? I’m glad that you can tolerate his attitude.”

She said it so fucking cutely, like I was supposed to take it lightly and laugh about it. Marco seemed uncomfortable, and I knew because the back of his hair was wet and he kept scratching it, his nervous tick. I learned it quickly, always to help him out of situations that made him upset because I knew he wouldn’t do it himself.

“Mom, that’s enough. I don’t need you gossiping about me with my friends.”

“Oh god Jean I was just kidding. Stop being so serious all the time.”

She huffed and took a place next to my dad on the couch, eyeballing the TV and if looks could blow shit up I’d need to buy a new one. I loved and hated pissing her off at the same time. I mean, I wish I could get along with my parents, because they’re my parents and I should be able to be in a room with them for more than ten minutes without wanting to kick them in the annoying faces.

“I’ll make everyone coffee. Marco, come in the kitchen with me, yeah?”

He followed me out of the room, noticeably feeling more comfortable as we got further away from them. After I set the coffee pot to make twice as much coffee as it usually did, I walked over and leaned on the counter right next to Marco, not even noticing when I laid my head on his shoulder softly, sighing. I felt instantly drained, exhausted, and in need of a nap. A Marco-laughing-because-we-did-something-dumb induced nap. I felt his arm lift to hang loosely around my shoulder, and I felt so happy I could have died right there. He was warm, and the fact that I now knew he was comfortable with me being close to him in need of comfort made me smile.

“Marco, I know I could have it worse, but I really don’t like them. God the first fucking thing she says to you is talking shit about me. What even was that?”

“I don’t know Jean. To be honest, the only reason I was so uncomfortable is because I didn’t wanna hear that stuff about you because I personally don’t feel that it’s true. I think you’re really nice, and that you just don’t want people in your life that will bring you down, which makes me really grateful to be your friend, because I try to make people happy.”  
I couldn’t believe what he had said. It was so true. It was like he saw right through me, all of my bullshit defenses merely walls of paper in his eyes. No one ever saw me that way. Before I knew it, I was hugging him full on, my face buried in his chest and my arms gripping around his stomach so hard I thought I may crush his lanky body. This time, though, it didn’t surprise me when he wrapped his arms around me in return, and set his chin in my hair, sighing. We stayed like that until the coffee was finished, the spurting noise shaking me from my Marco scented world and pasting a scowl back on my face, as it was the cue to have to go back out and talk to my parents.

I walked over and handed my parents each a mug, taking my own from Marco, and sat on the floor facing the couch. I showed no emotion, though inside I was a giddy fucking schoolgirl because Marco is cute and I’m the dorklord. I wanted to be alone with him, not sitting with my obnoxious parents. I sat closer to Marco that was probably necessary, but I wanted to sit far from my dad seeing as how any minute he’d start acting like I was the dirt on the sidewalk that he walked on every day.

“So son, how are your grades so far? Have you been turning in your work?”

Ah, right on cue.  
“Dad it’s only the second week. We haven’t even gotten-“

“Like it fucking matters dumbass! Whatever shit you have gotten, you better be doing A work on. Don’t let me see you fucking up again this year like you did last year.”

“I passed last year…”

“Passing isn’t good enough. B and C report cards won’t cut it.”

I found myself in the state of fear that I always was when my father began speaking this way. I was already trembling, my fingers having a difficult time keeping the suddenly heavy mug in my hands. Marco had wide eyes, staring at me out of the corner of my eyes, and I wished I could run away and hide from the embarrassment that was pulsing through my veins. It was horrid.

“Sweetie, I think your father just wants you to-“

“Fuck that sweetie shit. He can get good grades and stop being a worthless shit or he can find his own goddamn money.”

My hand shot over and landed on top of Marco’s, which was clamped tightly on his knee. I was scared. My dad was getting angry, and that was almost never good. My mom being there did absolutely nothing to help the situation, and I knew that by Marco being here it put him in danger because of the threats to ‘keep his gay ass mouth shut’ would be serious and approaching soon. 

Marco’s hand turned over, grasping mine with worry. I already knew this looked suspicious in my parents’ eyes, but I knew I was already in deep shit so I honestly didn’t care if they thought I was gay. That was the least of my worries. I did notice, though, that Marco’s hand that was still around the mug was gripping the glass extremely hard, and his beautiful brown eyes were squinted a bit and filled to the thick lashes with pure anger. He was livid, and I’d never seen him this angry. It was as if he were possessed, and when I felt my father’s foot collide with the side of my head, knocking me over to land in Marco’s lap, I heard an ear shattering crash of glass. When I regained straight sight, I saw that Marco had crushed the mug in his hand. He fucking crushed a ceramic mug with his one hand, by pure pressure. I was in complete awe, only until I noticed the blood dripping from his hand, mixing with the steaming coffee on the floor, and felt his carefully slide my body off of his lap. He was standing now, and what happened next I almost could not even believe. 

I, the one who was meant to protect Marco, was lying on the floor, hair absorbing bloody coffee, defeated, while my sweet, sweet freckled boy was demonically lunging at my father. I saw fire in his eyes, like he could not control his actions, not one bit. It shook me to the core, watching Marco’s large fists collide with the older man’s face, his candy coated voice morphed into something of a deep roar. I couldn’t move, my head still spinning from the extraordinarily hard kick to my head. I could feel myself slipping out of conciseness, still staring absolutely terrified as my father wrestled away from Marco’s grip and stormed, yelling with my mother in tow out of the apartment. 

It had all happened so fast, my brain only registering it as a dream. But when my eyes opened and I saw the floor in front of me, dried coffee still not cleaned, and felt the sharp pain shooting through the side of my face, I knew it had happened. But what I didn’t understand was why I was still laying in a puddle of coffee. Marco would have usually cleaned me up and I’d like to think that my head would be in his lap, him whispering encouraging words to me. But instead, I sat up to see him sitting on the floor, against the wall, his hand still bleeding a bit, his eyes dark and lifeless, like the day I first met him.

It hurt, but I clumsily fumble to my hands and knees, crawling over to him, already feeling the tears falling over my cheeks. He was staring at me, his eyes moving along with me all the way until I was curled up into his lap, sobbing into his shirt. I had never in my life openly cried to someone. I’ve never let anyone hold me or see me lose it. I’ve never told anyone how my dad treats me, or how my mom pretends like she doesn’t see. He was the first. He didn’t move anything but his eyes, and when I took his injured hand in mine, stroking my fingers over the palm, it was the first time he even blinked since I’d woken up. 

“M-Marco…Your hand…Doesn’t it hurt?”

He was still staring at me blankly, and I couldn’t help but cry more at this. I knew that what happened had triggered something in him, forcing him back down into the goddamn soulless pit he’d been in before I began pulling him out. I held his hand to my chest, watching as my tears fell on the cuts and trickled, bloody, down his forearm. It took me time, but I was finally able to stand and reach down to him. 

“Marco please, come with me to my room. Please, for me, get up…”

I’ll never forget that night. I’ll never forget how I washed his hand and wrapped it, his other hand gripping my shirt the whole time, and walked him to bed. I’ll never forget how he looked at me, and when I pulled the covers around him he softly asked me to stay awake until he fell asleep. I didn’t know why he asked me that, but I had a feeling it probably made him feel safe. He and I made a huge connection that night, even though we hadn’t talked about it yet, and I could tell that nothing would be the same anymore. I kept my word, waiting until he fell completely asleep before wandering tiredly into the bathroom to shower and dress in my flannel pajama pants, then crawling into my bed next to Marco. Suddenly though, I couldn’t sleep. I wondered too much. Why did that trigger him into being so paralyzed that he couldn’t even fix his hand? Why did he look so empty? What happened? 

He slept awfully. Tossing and turning, mumbling and grabbing at me the entire night, and at one point I thought he would alert the neighbors of a murder with how loud he was screaming and begging. It scared me, because I was used to dad’s behavior, and the fear from that never lasted past the actual incident. But Marco was scaring me, because now atop the refusal to eat a healthy amount of food, he showed me a side of him I’ll always be afraid but strangely in awe of. I knew now that I could never leave Marco for any reason, because even though he seemed happy, it was a shell, and I knew it. He had to be so strong to put such a front on every day. He was very incredible.

It was then that I knew who I would paint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! Admiration Part II is next. Basically just a continuation of this chapter's idea.


	5. Admiration Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of chapter 4!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This basically flowed right out of me so it's up really fast!

Marco and I did not go to school that Tuesday. I’m sure we could have made it through the day if we’d tried, but honestly, I was one-hundred percent sure that neither of us felt like ‘trying’ to do anything that day. When I woke up, Marco was still sleeping, his brow furrowed and glistening with sweat in the poor lighting of my bedroom. It almost pained me to look at him, only because I knew that what had happened hurt him, physically and emotionally, and it was my fault. It was because of me that Marco had even been at the apartment the night before. Even though I knew he’d disagree, that’s how I felt, and laying here looking at him sleep so…painfully, I knew that I absolutely could not let him see anything like that ever again. I had to protect him, to fix him, and as much as people always say that you can’t fix someone, I knew that I needed to try.

I laid there and watched him until he started to stir and mumble incoherently to himself. I immediately rolled back over and pretended like I was just waking up, just to be on the safe side, and noticed that he was staring at his hand, completely and utterly confused as to why it was wrapped, and probably hurt. I felt my face twist in a questioning look as he inspected it. I cautioned my first words, just in case he didn’t know I was there for some reason, lost in his own world.

“Marco, what’s wrong?”

It came out in a whisper, as if I’d break his ear drums by speaking normally. He turned and looked at me, eyes wide, and it felt like someone had sent a crushing blow through my chest. 

“What happened to my hand? Why did I sleep here last night? Isn’t it Tuesday? Why aren’t we at school!?”

I felt a bit overwhelmed at the sudden barrage of questions, so frantic as he looked around the room as if he’d never been in it before, as if he didn’t know me. It wasn’t exactly the most terrifying experience, but it made me sad, simply put, to watch him so helplessly confused, and it made me sick to my stomach to think that I’d have to remind him of what happened. I couldn’t just pretend that it didn’t. 

“Do you remember what happened last night?”

He stared at me, shaking his head silently until he gasped, rolling onto his knees and crawling over to me, placing his long fingers tentatively on my right temple. It hurt so fucking bad, and he was barely touching me, but I couldn’t help leaning into the touch. The worry in his eyes was incredible.

“Why do you have such a big bruise on your face?! I didn’t hit you did I?! Jean?”

I couldn’t really say anything. I already knew that I was staring at him like an idiot, leaning into his hand which he’d yet to pull away from my face, and my mind was screaming at me to say something, anything. But I couldn’t. I just wanted to stay like that, even if just for one more minute. He was so warm, and if it would have been commonplace to curl up into his chest and fall asleep to his voice, I’d have done it and never left the spot. But we both had to face our demons and as much as I didn’t want to see that face morph into anymore pain, it had to be approached. I placed my hand over his, pushing it away from my face and placing it in his lap softy.

“Last night, when my parents were here, my dad started to get rough with me. He kicked me in the head, and when I fell in your lap, you…you crushed your coffee mug with your hand. Just your hand, and while that was impressive…you like…lunged at my dad Marco. You weren’t even yourself…It was terrifying, not because of you, but because since I’ve never seen you fight, I thought you’d get hurt!”

I was already closer to him, my hands firmly grasping his shoulders and I swear to you that my face could not have been more than seven inches from his. I could FEEL his heartbeat and breath quickening, and I could see the hairs on his arms standing up with the goose bumps that presented themselves in a cluster-fuck of patterns.

“When I woke back up after I’d lost consciousness, I was confused because I know you and I know you’d have cleaned the coffee off the floor and out of my hair, and I know you’d have bandaged your hand and I know that when I woke up I should have been next to you. But I wasn’t. You were so…gone Marco. You were so GONE.”

I was crying now, completely consumed by my fear that I’d lost him. When I had cried in his lap the night before it was not out of fear from my father but out of fear that the event had caused the loss of my Marco, and that scared me to the core. I couldn’t even look him in the face right now. I just held his shoulders, my head hung between my arms as I watched my tears darken the blue sheets we both sat on. I was yelling by now, frantic and mentally pleading that he would hold me. I wanted him to hold me, and I wanted to hold him and tell him that it was okay.

“Marco I thought I lost you again. I knew that what happened hurt you in ways that I don’t have the right yet to understand, and when I crawled over to you, you just stared at me so blankly like you didn’t know who I was! I don’t want you to feel like that anymore!”

I couldn’t hold the sobs that were wracking my entire being. It was horrible and when I finally found the courage to look up at him, I saw that he had been crying too, much more silently than I had, but the streams crawling down his freckled cheeks made me weak. He was slow to do it, but he reached his hands up to my shoulders and guided my head into his lap, running his fingers through my hair slowly, and as I felt my tears slow and dry, I clung to his pants, my fingers aching with the strength of my balled fists around the cloth. Whenever I felt one of his tears fall on my neck, I shivered, but found a strange comfort in it.

When it was once silent again, sniffles and sobs gone, I turned tiredly to look up at him. I wanted to see him smile. I wanted to see anything but this on his face. It hurt me more than getting kicked in the fucking head enough to bruise, apparently.

“Marco, it’s okay. We’re both safe, and I’ll never let that happen again. Thank you for protecting me.”

There it was. His face instantly lit up, and even though it was just a little, I could see that the despair had temporarily left his features, causing a tiny, tight lipped smile to sneak its way onto his face. I couldn’t help but smile back, nuzzling my head further into his lap.

“You’re a good friend. My best friend. I’m so happy that you’re here.”

I kept saying these encouraging thoughts to him, half an hour passing with nothing but my words and his smiles. We stayed in bed all day. Or at least, we stayed in bed all morning, because seeing as it had been around ten when we both woke up, after our emotional breakdown and refueling rest, we got really hungry. I let Marco take as long as he wanted in the shower, which was a strangely long ass time, and when he can out, he was wearing my button up again with a pair of black cargo shorts. We were both still in slightly solemn moods, walking around sluggishly and talking slowly, like we’d not slept in days. It wasn’t particularly happy again, but we wanted to forget what had happened and move on.

I felt closer to Marco than I thought I would ever feel to anyone after only a week of knowing them, but here we were, sitting on my couch with coffee and bowls of pretzels, telling each other about things we shouldn’t know until after years of knowing one another. It was okay though, because I could tell that Marco was feeling better. I couldn’t explain how I was able to read him so fast, but I could, like the back of my hand really. It was incredible and the fact that I knew he could read me the same made me so comfortable.

I heard him laugh that day, and he gave me a hug, in which we both encouraged each other to be strong. I still did not ask him about the trigger effect that night’s events held on him, only because I did not think it would be a good idea to ask him to bring up other inner demons while still dealing with whichever ones had peeked their heads out the night before.

We slept a lot that afternoon. It was on and off, usually consisting of cat naps with breaks to pee and eat some random thing that was on a shelf in the pantry. It was comfortable and happy, and I truly was sad when Marco said he’d have to go home. We did need to go to school the next day, though it would be begrudgingly. We both dreaded class, always bored and wanting to talk to each other, and we really despised lunch, where everyone made it their business to stare like we both had eight heads. It wasn’t like we did anything unordinary; I guess we just stuck out as the social recluses of the school.

As I thought, the next morning I woke up quite unhappy and the bruise on my face looked just as angry. I dressed as sloppily as ever for the day, throwing on a pair of black basketball shorts and a grey sweatshirt with my regular converse. I drank my coffee and ate before brushing my teeth to make sure I didn’t defeat the purpose and wandered around the apartment for a few minutes before it was time to leave. We had cleaned the floor really well so evidence of our debacle was no more. I just wanted to get the day over with so Marco and I could come home and watch a movie.

Home. I called it home, as if it were ours. I shook my head and walked out the door, trying to control my idiotic brain before I did something really obvious and stupid. I was grumpy as ever, but when I saw that mop of black hair and the speckled cheeks my day brightened like in those cliché ass movies. Once I approached him though, I noticed that he looked a bit different than usual.

“You’re sick Marco! Why aren’t you at home sleeping?”

“Oh jesus Jean you scared me don’t just walk up behind me and start talking…Yes I have a bit of a cold, but I’m fine.”

I flopped my hand on his forehead, staring at him disbelievingly, and quickly yanked my hand away. 

“Damn Marco…you’re like, on fire. You gonna be okay for the whole day? Let me know if you need to go home and I’ll walk you. I can sneak out of class.”  
'  
I could tell that he wasn’t too fond of that Idea but he nodded at me, just as the bell rang, and we began walking to art. This was my favorite class of the day, and I was happy to start the day with it because it was a good way to wake me up the rest of the way. Marco and I were allowed to talk and the work was actually pretty fun. We were still working on our paintings today, and I was nervous to start mine, because I’m a really bad artist. I sat there staring at my paper for the longest time, my pencil hovering above the center. I hated this part of art, because when you try to start something, and you’re nervous that you’ll mess it up, you become hyper aware of everything around you. The scratching of pencils, the breathing of other people, the ticking of the clock, the way it smells in the room, everything. It’s annoying.

I kept hearing Marco cough, and groan while clutching his stomach. He was working hard to concentrate on his work, but it seemed to me like he was in a lot of pain. He definitely shouldn’t have come to school today. I found myself staring again, like the dork I am, and couldn’t help but notice the paling of his face. Shit. Before I could even say anything he was bolting out of his seat, his hand over his mouth, straight out of the room. I told him to go home, but I guess Marco was more stubborn than he let on.

I almost got up out of my seat to go after him, before I noticed the paper lying on his desk and the fact that he’d left his bag sitting on the floor by the desk. I planned on walking him home now, because there was no way in hell I was letting him stay at school while he was throwing up, I didn’t care if he’d been absent yesterday too. I’d have to bring his things, which meant putting his sketch book and project in his messenger bag. I stood and reached over, pulling the bag onto the table and unbuttoning the front, flipping the top open and sliding his sketchbook inside. I then looked down at his project, eying it with caution. I wasn’t supposed to look at it, but I wanted to so bad. I shrugged, picking it up between two fingers and flipping it over. 

I almost cried. I almost burst into tears in the middle of art class in front of all these people whom I had no idea who they even were. It was incredible what I was looking at. It was the most beautiful sketch I’d ever seen, so well drawn, perfect lines, exquisite shading and depth, and it looked so hyper realistic that I’d think I’d been looking in a mirror. He’d drawn ME. Of all the people or places or things in the world he could have drawn to represent his inspiration, he chose ME. It was so beautiful. It was simply my face, drawn at an angle, as if I were looking down to my left. I’ve never seen myself in the light that Marco drew me. My jaw line was sharp and square, but soft enough to be kissable, my cheekbones high and melded perfectly into my eyes that were practically sparkling on the page. My hair looked like dandelion tufts, beautiful and silky, tickling my ears and eyebrows, which were also drawn sharp and angular, framing everything so perfectly. But, oh my god, the way he drew my lips, thin but pouty, drawn upward into a smirk, as if the thing I was looking at was slightly funny. 

I was snapped from my trance when the bell rang for the end of first period, and I had to carefully slip the page into his bag, throwing it over my shoulder. I found him in the bathroom, leaning on the sink looking absolutely miserable. He didn’t ask me questions when I handed him his bag, and thank god too, because if he’d asked me anything about the drawing I wouldn’t have been able to lie to him. I just hoped he thought that I hadn’t looked. I prayed that he thought that.

“Come on Marco, you aren’t staying at school, no arguing. Sorry to play momma bear, but seriously man, don’t you want some soup and ice cream? We can watch that movie you were talking about!”

I couldn’t help but feel complete with the smile he gave me when we walked out and towards the apartment. It was a good thing I already had chicken soup and ice cream at home, because he was definitely not up to going to the store. When we got back, walked ahead of me into my room, coming back out a few seconds later pulling the comforter from my bed with him, and curled up on the couch and waited for me to make him soup. Which I did, then proceeding to pop in the movie and shut out the lights. It would be a relaxing movie day with lots of soup and juice and I got to be the caretaker, which I honestly enjoyed. 

Marco stayed until midnight that night, and when he left he did look a bit better. He ensured me that he would be fine by Saturday to go to the Halloween festival with me, which made me extremely happy because I really wanted to go with him. I just hoped that the rest of the week would go by without any hitches. I couldn’t sleep that night though, since I’d ended up falling asleep on the couch during our third movie, and I found myself picturing that drawing Marco had done of me. I inspired him? Why on Earth would I inspire him? I mean, I tried hard to make him happy, but in all honesty that was so selfish, because I wanted to see him happy because it made ME happy. Shouldn’t I want his happiness for HIM? Either way, though, I supposed it was fine as long as he was happy. Our friendship was entirely real, and it would never end. I swore to myself that it would never end, no matter what.


	6. I am proud of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco go to their Halloween festival and encounter some problems, after which Jean finds out exactly what the problem with Marco has been all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF CHILD ABUSE OR SELF HARM (hints of rape but nothing detailed at all. the word isn't even actually in the story) TRIGGERS YOU DONT READ THIS TURN AROUND AVERT YOUR EYES GOODBYE PLEASE
> 
> Okay this is the longest chapter so far. It's a bit over 5,000 words so please enjoy. I have Carpel Tunnel because of this chapter. ALSO please don't hate me omg at least it had a good end...

Little did I know that even though the rest of that week had went by without a hitch, Saturday night, shit would hit the fucking fan. It was true, Thursday and Friday had been relatively nice, Marco coming back to school Thursday surprisingly refreshed and happy. He had only had a slightly runny nose by then. My motherly ways really worked! The classes weren’t that bad, and I started my art project, baffled at how well I was doing so far. I was so excited when school ended Friday night because Marco was staying over again tonight, and the Halloween festival was the next day. We’d be going from 6:00 until it closed at 10:00. Marco told me that Halloween stuff was best done at night, and I had excitedly agreed, now even more stoked for that night. 

By Friday night, I was 100% sure. I was completely and totally in love with Marco. There was no doubting it, or pretending that it wasn’t true, because it was true, painfully so. I’d never asked Marco if he preferred girls or boys, so it wasn’t like I knew if I could even hint it to him. I reluctantly kept my mouth shut the whole two days, but when we got home that afternoon and Marco came out of the bathroom in nothing but a pair of boxers and a long sleeve shirt, I almost flipped my shit. If he was going to walk around being that cute every day the least he could do is keep his perfect ass covered with some pants. It was truly a taxing feat to keep from blushing right then. Once I had made us a bowl of popcorn to share, Marco and I plopped down on the couch to resume our typical after-school regiment, which consisted of snackage and movies that were so horrid that we couldn’t keep our eyes away. 

Now, usually I’m not one to do stupid shit that would get me in trouble. Maybe I’m a bit blunt and loud, but I would never intentionally do anything to endanger myself. But I’m pretty sure that I’d had a lapse in judgment the day before when Connie approached me with a bottle of Jaeger and told me that he was trying to get rid of it, and I was the first person he thought of to give it to. Mind you that I was the last friend that he’d had since he began dating Sasha. His time is totally consumed by her. I took the alcohol, not really sure what to do with it, but hell, it was free. I found myself thinking about how fun it would be to have another one of our pillow wars while drunk, ordering pizza afterwards and conking out like we did every night. This is where the lapse of judgment really reared its ugly head.

“Hey, Marco.”

“Hm.”

“You ever drink before?”

“Like, alcohol?”

I giggled, patting him on the shoulder a bit roughly. I heard the voice in my head screaming at me to shut the fuck up and stop what I was doing but, no, Jean doesn’t listen to himself once again.

“Yeah man, Connie gave me a bottle of Jaeger. Wanna bust it open with me? Please? We won’t leave the apartment we’ll just get loopy and have a good ass night!”

He seemed skeptical, but it seemed when I promised him we weren’t actually going out in public anywhere, he softened a bit and nodded slowly. I jumped up, smiling over my shoulder at him and ran into my room, digging the bottle out of my closet. It was only about a quarter of the way empty, and it was quite a large bottle. I hoped that we didn’t actually get enough in us that we became outrageously drunk enough to try and drink this whole thing. When I went back into the living room, Marco’s eyes widened a bit, probably half at the size and half because he realized that I was dead serious. I walked into the kitchen and set it down, pulling out two really small cups that were only a tiny bit bigger than shot glasses, carrying them out into the living room. 

“Okay, we’ll go at the same time. Try not to throw up okay?”

“Yeah…”

“Hey, if you don’t want to, don’t let me pressure you, please Marco don’t do it if you really don’t want to. I’d feel like shit.”

He shook his head, smiling at me.

“I promise Jean, it’s okay. I was only surprised because you didn’t seem like the type of person who drinks this heavy stuff.”

I chuckled and poked at his shoulder, smirking.

“And you are?”

He said nothing. I almost exploded, literally, with surprise when he deadpanned and quickly grabbed the bottle from my hand, tipping it to his lips and heartily gulping at the stuff. I was in utter shock. What the fuck was Marco doing drinking like that? I snatched the bottle away from him, watching as he wiped his lips with the back of his arm and smirked at me. 

“M-Marco what the fuck was that?!” 

“I’ve been drinking since I was 15 Jean. Please don’t ask me why okay? I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

As always, that was enough to keep me from asking questions. In a way, I thought it was cool that Marco could toss back heavy liquor without even a hint of a grimace while I sat there choking back shots like it would kill me. But on the other hand, I knew by the way he spoke of it, with that fake ass smile and sadly soft voice, that it wasn’t a good reason as to why he could drink like that. But before long, all my worries were floating away in a lightheaded serenity that I could feel heating its way through my body. My skin already felt hot, and I could feel the tint of red on my cheeks. What I found absolutely hilarious though, was my own voice. I had turned to Marco to ask him how he felt, and as soon as the word ‘how’ came out of my mouth, I erupted into a fit of giggles. Well aren’t I shit outta luck now? I was drunk already, and I’d only had about five shots.

“Heyy Marco…”

“Yeah?”

“Um, are you, like, uhh are you drunk or some shit?”

“Heh, a little. Your face is all red and puffy, oh god.”

Our words were definitely slurred, and I finally understood why peoples’ words slurred when they were drunk. I was literally so hyper but so tired that I couldn’t find the energy to punctuate. I apparently found it hilarious, because I kept laughing and poking at Marco’s stomach.

“Oiiii, Marco, I need um, the stuff.”

“What *hic* stuff Jean what do you even mean right now?”

“Um, that stuff that you put in your tummy.”

“More alcohol?”

God what an obnoxious snort that was that had left my mouth. If I hadn’t been hammered, I would have been so embarrassed.

“Nooo, silly, eats. The foods. I want food.”

“Eat a dick.”

“WOW MARCO WOW DID YOU JUST SAY THAT?”

“Shh shush your face Jean seriously you have neighbors…NEIGHbors…Neigh…Heh.”

“Marco.”

I could not believe with my own ears what was coming from his mouth. Even when Marco and I were comfortable around each other and were able to joke around with one another, he never talked like that. He was making lame puns and being really fucking strange. But when he jumped up randomly and grabbed a pillow, running into my room, I knew that it was so on. 

Another pillow war ensued, along with two pizzas being ordered, two cokes for each of us, the sugar only worsening our hyperactivity, and a long as fuck string of Mario kart races, all before 10:00 at night. Once we calmed down though, we resumed our movie marathon, now only slightly tipsy. My head kept lulling to the side, along with shaky vision, and I knew that bedtime was drawing near. Maybe Marco and I drinking wasn’t the worst idea ever, though I once again have unanswered questions floating around in my head. We had fun, and we didn’t get in any trouble, though the pizza guy asked why we were drunk at 5:30 and the neighbor beside me kept banging on the wall for us to stop yelling at each other during Mario Kart. 

I noticed that Marco had already fallen asleep, curled up to my left on the couch. His feet were almost in my lap, and his head was curled down into his chest from lack of room where his pillow was. If he were smaller than me, I would have carried him into my room so he could sleep in a bed, but the fact that he was passed out and dead weight, I left him on the couch, but not before stretching him out so he’d be more comfortable. Before I turned out the light though, I stole one last glance at him, loving every inch of his face. I decided then and there to do something really fucking stupid once again. I placed my hand on his forehead, sweeping the black bangs back, and leaned over to softly kiss his forehead, shocked at how warm his skin felt against my lips. I wished I could stay that way all night, but instead I stood and walked into my room, stripping down to my boxers and climbing into bed. I already knew we’d both wake up to splitting headaches and aches, so I’d set out Tylenol on the coffee table for Marco before going to bed, and some on my nightstand for when I first woke up the next morning. I didn’t really realize when it was that I fell asleep, mostly because I probably just passed out amidst my thoughts. 

It was Marco who woke me up the next morning, leaning over me with a very tired look on his face. I thought it was weird how he already looked showered and dressed, like he’d been up already for hours.

“Mm, hey, when did you get up?”

“Twelve. It’s three now.”

“Aw shit. You could have woken me up you know…”

“No, it was fine. I just watched TV and ate all of your ice cream.”

I took the opportunity to heave a pillow into his face before sitting up, grumbling incoherent shit. I could not believe I slept until three in the afternoon. 

“Okay Marco, one, I feel like death so can you please be a good friend and make me some food while I shower? Two, you’re buying more ice cream.”

He left the room, nodding happily, and I proceeded in the attempt to get out of bed, which was proving not too easy. The floor was cold, like always, and the trek to the bathroom that was literally right outside my bedroom seemed way longer because of the smell of food in the kitchen and how badly I wanted to eat before I showered. But we had to leave in two hours for the festival because it was in the next city and was an hour long bus ride. I was so excited that I rushed through my shower, shaving my face even though I rarely have stubble and put on a ridiculous amount of deodorant and cologne. I would probably get a snarky comment from Marco about how much I put on, but I didn’t care. I sneakily rounded the corner when I was finished and got back into my room without him seeing me naked and began nakedly rummaging through my drawers for something decent to wear. 

I ended up deciding on a long sleeve white thermal with a black and blue flannel and a pair of black skinny jeans, along with the same old converse. I knew it would be kind of cold out that night so I went with the warm approach because if I got hot I could always take the flannel off. When I went out into the kitchen, I noticed that Marco was putting together stir fry, which upon smelling I almost burst into tears of happiness for a real meal. It smelled SO good. I walked over to the pan and swiftly grabbed a piece of broccoli, ducking under Marco’s arm when he tried to swat me away from the stove.

“How much longer?”

“When the rice finishes, so 15 more minutes.”

“UGGGHHHHH Marcoooo I am so hungry.”

He ended up getting me out of the kitchen with a Popsicle to hold me over and a glass of apple juice. Honestly I was pretty sure we were both momma bears when it came to one another, and that made me want to be more than friends even more. I knew I’d always be protected.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity to me at least, dinner was ready around 4:00 and we both sat on the floor in the living room eating at the coffee table and watching cartoons. I enjoyed times like these when we acted like children. Around 5:00 on the dot we were walking out the door to go to the bus stop. It was already getting dark out and even though this city isn’t very risky, I still don’t like being out at night, so I walked really close to Marco. He didn’t seem to mind, and his copious amount of radiating body heat helped a lot. It was colder than I thought it would be, and Marco was lucky he was so big, because my lanky ass was freezing. He was wearing a black thermal and a red sweater with a black hoodie over that. I have to say that I was jealous of all his layers.

The bus ride was actually comfortable. There weren’t too many people riding at this hour, even though it was rush hour, because it was a Saturday. I still sat close to Marco, though. I told him it was because I was cold, which wasn’t a lie. But I would have sat that close if we were in a sauna. When we got to the stop where we’d walk to the festival from, we stopped for coffee first. I got pumpkin spice and he got a vanilla latte, and I got a muffin because apparently two bowls of Marco’s incredible stir fry wasn’t enough. He laughed at me for that, calling me the Spartan Pit for all food. I still let him have a bite though.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Marco smile like he did when we got to the fairgrounds. I already assumed that out momma bear roles would be switching when we got to the festival because I had a feeling he’d be one of those ‘kid-in-a-candy-shop’ types of people. He was already running to the entrance, eyes glowing with excitement. I couldn’t help but just run after him. If he was going to be excited then so was I! 

“Hey Marco wait!”

“Come on Jean! Stop being so slow!”

“If you slow down I’ll buy you cotton candy!”

“Really!?”

He was already, to my enjoyment, running back to me, a smile plastered on his face. I did end up buying him cotton candy. Twelve times. We also got root beer floats that Marco promptly threw up after about ten minutes because he drank it too fast and wouldn’t listen when I said to slow down. It was the most fun I’d had in years. Maybe the most fun I’d had in my entire 18 years of life. Marco ended up giving me the jacket he was wearing over his sweater because I wouldn’t stop shivering, which made me blush a bit but smile at the warmth it gave me. We went on every ride twice, even the Ferris wheel, which was my favorite because the lights made Marco’s face really pretty, and went through both haunted houses, which were really good this year. Marco even jumped a few times, which I made sure to laugh at. Over all, we were having fun. 

But shit hit the fan.

It was when we were walking through the area where all of the game booths were, and Marco was getting excited because he wanted to go catch goldfish so we could keep them in a little bowl on the counter at home. We both called it home now, seeing as the only time Marco wasn’t there was school nights and during school itself, which he still came over until about 10:00 on those days. He was already staring down at me, pointing at it when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that some really creepy man had been staring at us for the past five minutes. When Marco noticed my expression his face hardened a bit and he reached over and grabbed my shoulder, shaking me a bit. 

“Jean, what’s wrong?”

“Uhh, Marco, look over there. See that guy in the black jacket? Do you know him? He’s been staring at us for like, five minutes.”

I don’t ever want to think about the look on my precious Marco’s face ever again. It was like he was being held at gunpoint. He reached down and grabbed my hand, starting to run off with me in tow. We made it down the long row of stalls and stopped behind a random one, both trying hard to catch out breathes. He was standing closer to the street while I was tucked away behind him in the darker area. I couldn’t see past him, and I have a feeling that he was making that happen for a reason. He was hiding me. He bent down and pulled me close to him, his face next to my ear. 

“That was my dad. He’s here with his girlfriend. He thinks I’m at home studying…We can’t move or-“

“Marco Bodt, I am almost fucking positive that you’re supposed to be at home studying right now? Or are you actually trying to fucking test my goddamn intelligence?!”

Oh no, I knew that tone, and I knew that look that was spread across Marco’s face. I absolutely knew now why he was trying to hide us. More so me though, because even though I didn’t know fully, I was almost sure that he didn’t want me to witness anything like this. But what I did know now, was why he flipped out so badly and got so distant on Monday night. He knew exactly what it was like. He’d protected me, and by doing that he silently promised me that he’d never let it happen again, because he understood. I didn’t even have time to react, though, when his father had walked right up to him and grabbed the collar of his sweater and started pulling him away. I looked at him, terrified, and tried to figure out what I should do. The way he looked at me told me to do nothing, that he’d come home as soon as he could. But I didn’t want him to be taken away. I knew what would happen, or at least I had a pretty good idea. But I couldn’t do anything, and before I gathered the courage to run after them, they were gone.

I took forever to get home. It was only 9:30 at that point, and the bus didn’t come until 10:00. I was worried sick that Marco wasn’t okay and the fact that I had left my phone at home and wasn’t even going to get there for another hour and a half nerved me to no end. I was shaking, hard, and no matter how many times I say down on the bench at the bus stop and curled into Marco’s jacket, I got back up and paced, biting my nails to raw nubs. I was so close to crying, and I almost wanted to, because tears were warm and I didn’t have him here to discretely steal body heat from. I would have borrowed someone’s phone to call him, at least to check up on him, but I didn’t have his number memorized yet. When the bus finally came I almost screamed with joy. I needed to get home. Maybe Marco was already there, and maybe I was wrong. Maybe his dad was just really mad but didn’t really do anything. Maybe, Maybe, please just be fucking Maybe. 

I arrived at the apartment building at just past eleven, sighing with relief when I stepped inside the warm lobby. I didn’t even pay attention to how fast I’d been walking, or how much I was crying. But what I did notice was our receptionist, Christa, was pacing behind her desk looking worried sick. Marco and I became good friends with her after about two days of Marco coming here, since he was so nice, and she often made us small lunches since we were both usually tired from school. When she saw me, she ran up to me and grabbed both of my hands noticeably wincing at how cold they were, but instantly looked at me with urgency. 

“Jean, Marco is here, he…he looked like hell Jean but I couldn’t let him into your apartment! I’m so sorry, I’d get fired if I were to do that! I’m sorry! Please come now…I’m worried he might pass out in the hallway.”

She was frantically talking to me, pulling me behind her as she walked through the hallways to where my apartment was.

“I offered to bring him to the hospital or call an ambulance but he refused. He just kept asking where you were and why he couldn’t go home and sleep…He kept saying over and over ‘I just wanna get in where my bed is and sleep, where is he?’…OH! Marco! Good god there you are!”

I instantly slapped my hand over my mouth and cried. I didn’t just leak tears, no, I bawled. I ran over so fast, collapsing in front of him and fucking cried. I knew that Christa was already taking the hint, because she was slowly turning to walk away, carefully making sure I was going to be able to handle myself. I was happy that she had confidence in me and wanted to give us time alone, but I honestly didn’t even know if I could do anything to fix this. I wondered how I’d even get him into the apartment. 

“M-Marco, hey, what happened? Tell me, what happened?”

He wouldn’t even look at me, so ashamed, and it didn’t take long to figure out that he was. He felt bad for coming home this way, and I knew it, because that’s Marco. He obviously wasn’t going to talk right now. I had to be brave and go into momma bear mode. I’d done it numerous times by now right? I could do it now, when it was absolutely necessary. I scrambled up off the floor and bent down, wiggling my head under his arm and helping him stand, which thank god he could help with, because there was no way I’d get him inside on my own. 

I had to basically kick the door open after a quick twist of the knob, dropping the key but paying no mind to it. We stumbled over to the couch and I helped him sit, kneeling down in front of him. He still wouldn’t look at me. I wouldn’t let myself be afraid because right now I had to be the brave one. This time I had to be the protector, though it stung my heart that I couldn’t actually protect him as he’d done for me. I took his hand in mine and fit my fingers between his, laying my head in his lap. I tried to comfort him simply, stroking my thumb over the back of his trembling hand. It had to be ten minutes before I spoke again, ten minutes passed by the counting of the freckles on Marco’s hand and the silent tears he was crying that landed untouched on my face. 

“Hey…Marco…Can you tell me what happened? It’s okay, I won’t hurt you, so you can tell me…Please?”

He was hesitant; I could see it in his face. He’d finally looked at me, but it was with intense shame. It was like he felt he’d betrayed or hurt me, and that was an aching feeling that I still can’t describe. I continued to softly rub the skin on his hand and arm, trying hard to calm him.

“Shh Marco, don’t cry, it’s okay now. You’re home and no one is going to hurt you. Talk to me.”

“I…I want to take a bath first…I feel…dirty…so dirty…”

I simply nodded, raising my head from his lap and pulling him up, leading him into the bathroom. I knew how immobilizing abuse was. You feel like a burden to the one who takes care of you, because as much as you want to walk and do things yourself, you can’t find the strength in your limbs to do anything. You’re just tired, and let yourself be coddled because it feels sinfully good compared to the hell that was just endured. I knew he wasn’t too fond of me helping him, but I needed to. He didn’t fight me or even move when I sat him on the edge of the tub and pulled the long sleeve shirt off of him. He wasn’t wearing his sweater anymore, and the shirt he had on was now littered with rips and tears. I almost turned around to go get him a towel when I noticed something that made my heart stop. 

I almost fell when I knelt by him, staring up into those honey brown eyes that were newly emptied. I found a new bursting confidence in me, probably out of intense need to fix the display in front of me. I never found it suspicious that he always wore long sleeves, but now I knew why. I always expected his entire body to be covered in those cute freckles, littering him like rain drops scatter on waxy flower petals. But here on his arms were not scattered freckles, but jagged and angry cuts. They adorned him like a rancid plague, consuming the beautiful skin in its horror. I couldn’t stop myself, nor did I really want to, when I said nothing and brought one arm to my face, feathering each and every scar and wound with light kisses, thoroughly branding every one with as passionate of a kiss as I could muster. I felt him trembling, looking up to see him cry as I went up each arms numerous times, running my fingers over them lightly and absolutely covering them in love. 

“Shh…”

“Don’t glorify them…Please Jean…”

“Hey…I’m so proud of you.”

His eyes widened a bit, his hand gripping my forearm lightly. He was choking back sobs, holding his other arm to his body, shielding it from me.

“How can you be proud of me…I…I’m so...disgusting…Look at me Jean, I can’t even stop hurting myself…how can you say that…”

“Because you’re still here, aren’t you? You’ve stopped recently, I can tell. There’s one here, you see, that’s new.”

I leaned forward, once again kissing the only new cut that was present on his left arm, smiling against the skin.

“I know that you did this one just tonight. But look, these guys over here…they’re already healed. How long had it been Marco?”

“T-Two weeks…”

“Ahh, I see. You see now? No one can quite a habit cold turkey. I’m sure what happened justifies this…It’s okay. I don’t blame you, so you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

I could tell that he was having an inner battle, his demons berating him for listening to such nonsense. I knew how it was. Part of him wanted so bad to believe me and stop hating himself for things he knew he couldn’t control. But at the same time, those ugly things residing in his mind kept at him, hurting him and kicking him down when he tried to climb out of the pit of hell he’d been in for so long. I knew that he wasn’t going to be better in one night, but the best thing I could do that night was get him cleaned up and into some warm pajamas and off to sleep. 

I pulled him into me, hugging him close and letting him bury his face into my neck. 

“Shh, Shh, my precious Marco please don’t cry okay? It’s okay…I’m here.”

“D-don’t leave. Please don’t leave me like everyone else does when they find out. Everyone hates me and when they find out they get sick of my pathetic shit and leave…But I can’t bear to have you leave you’re too important to me…”

“I won’t ever even think of it. Never, you hear? I’m here for good.”

Eventually he stopped crying and just became extremely tired, the bags under his eyes even more apparent. He really didn’t need to tell me what happened. The way he was bruised and where they were placed told me all I needed to know, and I understood why he asked me to take a bath first. I asked if he wanted help or if he wanted me to leave, to which he replied with the tightening of his arms around my waist. I took it as a ‘please stay’, and said nothing else about it. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, especially considering the circumstanced. I washed his hair for him, taking time on it and letting him enjoy it. I always liked when my hair was touched or played with, so assuming the fact that he practically melted when my fingers massaged his scalp, he did too. 

Eventually though, he looked at me with tired eyes and I knew it was time for bed. I helped dry him off and get into some pajama pants before climbing into bed with him. I planned on just staying until he fell asleep and then going to watch a movie, because frankly I was too overwhelmed to sleep. But when I felt the weight on the bed shift and Marco place his head on my chest and wrap around me, I froze and my breath ceased. He seemed to still be awake, but I wasn’t sure. I craned my head up to look at him, his eyes still open but half lidded. His grip on my shirt was light and needing, practically begging me to hold him.

“Marco…”

“Please…just for tonight.”

“Hey…I need to tell you something.”

He took a deep breath and moved his body up a bit, wedging his head under my chin. I moved my hand up, tangling my fingers in black locks, my other hand resting in the small of his back.

“I know. I love you too Jean…”


	7. I'm your rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean figures out a way to keep Marco from experiencing anymore suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, chapter 7 here! I hope you enjoy! This chapter is a little happier than the last. I hope my plot isn't moving alone too fast or anything...  
> Well, read and leave comments.  
> OH, also, if you aren't yet and you want to follow me on tumblr, my url is panda-booty-twerk  
> I basically just post SnK and Naruto.

I don’t really remember when we fell asleep. I know that we didn’t say anything else, because for one, I was so shocked and filled with overbearing happiness that I wouldn’t have been able to say anything intelligible anyways. I felt my heart leap out of my chest when Marco said he loved me, and I knew that he could tell too, because when my breath hitched and my chest tightened, he smiled and gripped my shirt tighter. He definitely fell asleep before me, and having him so close to me was like a dream. I didn’t want to fall asleep and be pulled away from it if it was. I guess I just passed out after an hour or so of trying to keep my eyes open. 

If I was certain there was a God, I’d have praised him for hours on end that night. I was entranced. Marco’s breath was warm on my neck and his hair brushed my chin. It was so much softer than I’d ever imagined, its deep black and light vanilla scent drawing me in until I had my face buried in it as he slept. He clung to my shirt all night, making sure I wouldn’t even roll away from him, and when I shifted my weight once he mewled with longing for me to stay and nuzzled up under my chin. I wanted to stay awake to experience Marco this way, thinking that maybe if I didn’t sleep, morning wouldn’t come rearing the incredibly painful conversation we’d end up having.

But not all is so kind as I found myself groggily opening my eyes to dusty rays of sun peeking through to top of the curtains. I let a groan escape my lips, closing my eyes and rolling my head away from the curtains, only to once again find my face buried in black silky locks. My scowl instantly changed to a look of content as I inhaled slowly and sighed, rolling to my side and snuggling into him. This is how I wanted to wake up every morning. Shit, if this is how I could wake up on school mornings, I wouldn’t mind going. I had a feeling that he was probably awake by the slight hesitation in his breathing and the smile that I could feel creeping along his lips against me. 

“Are you awake Marco?”

He nodded once, burying himself deeper into my chest with a sigh. 

“Hey. I wanna ask you something.”

“Hm.”

“How…How did you know?”

He rolled over a bit, looking up at me with a little smile that made my heart melt like it was being held over a fucking volcano. I honestly don’t understand how one person can be so cute.

“Well, for one you always stare at me. I never found it creepy, don’t worry. It was just really obvious. Also you kissed me on the forehead when I fell asleep on the couch,” 

I covered my face with a groan and could feel the blush covering my face and neck. He was just giggling softly and cuddled closer, which made me happy but made my blush spread like crazy. 

“And on top of that, you’re the most caring person I’ve ever been friends with and whenever I was in trouble, or upset, or sick, or anything, you were right there in milliseconds coddling me and staying with me…And last night it all clicked. I just knew. Even if I didn’t think you felt the same, I’d have told you anyway.”

I didn’t really know what to say. No one had ever told me that they rely on me or appreciate me so much before and the way he was looking at me at that moment made me just want to stare back. I opted for just smiling and holding him closer, because knowing me I’d ruin the moment with something stupid. I just laid there looking at him, lost in his eyes and my thoughts. Oh god how badly I wanted to stay this way forever because if I ever saw Marco hurt like that again I’d never forgive myself for not protecting him.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for Jean? You didn’t do anything…”

“Exactly, I wasn’t there to help you…what happened didn’t have to happen if I wouldn’t have back down and let him take you…”

“Hey, there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. This has been happening for the past 4 years. After my mom died, dad went off the deep end. It’s fine Jean. In case you were wondering though, that’s why I can drink like that. It was…just another way to destroy the pain I guess.”

I just laid there and listened, not wanting to stop him before he let himself confide all of his evils in me. I could feel in the way that his grip on me tightened and his breath became shaky, his eyes watery, that he needed this. He needed to just release all of his strife and sadness and anger, and not be alone in doing so for once. He clung to me, his voice rising.

“I drank to get rid of the pain, but then I went and inflicted pain on myself. I said to myself that it was out of the need for control. I felt like I controlled absolutely nothing else in my life, so when I cut, I was controlling the pain. When I starved myself for three almost four days at a time, I felt like my mind was in control over my body. I needed all of these things. When he does those things to me, I feel like I’m worthless and if I were gone no one would even care because all I was born to be was his fucking punching bag…”

By this point I was holding a shivering, sobbing mess of a boy against my chest, rubbing his back and running my fingers through his hair. I knew all night that this would come, and as much as I felt good for being the one to help him through this, it was really hard. It was hard knowing that Marco, who had to be the sweetest person I’d ever met, was going through such things all alone. 

“I never want to cut again Jean. I don’t want to. I hate how it makes me feel. I feel like such a stupid person for allowing myself to inflict pain on my own body even after all the stuff my dad does…I can’t deal with all of the pressure alone. After I met you though, I had someone to make me happy instead of just feeling isolated 24/7. As long as I could feel like that for more of the day than I felt that numbness, I knew I’d be okay…So, please don’t leave me. I can’t…I just can’t…” 

After all this, I couldn’t bear to think that he’d be going home to that man. I didn’t want him to leave my side ever again, because I needed to protect him. We needed to protect each other, because in this world, there are evil things all over the place and if you’re alone then those things can take hold of you and never let you go. Marco was a prime example, having been drowned by his demons long ago. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fix everything right away, but I could do it nonetheless, slowly but surely. Though, as long as his father was in the picture, it would be much slower and less surely than would do him any good. 

I wiggled out of his grip a bit, leaning back in order to look at his face. I’d guessed he was either embarrassed or really comfortable, because he kept trying to cling back into my chest, now soaking wet with his tears.

“Marco…Move in with me. Here, come live here. It never feels like home to me when you’re not here but it’s more of a home to you than with your dad.”

He looked shocked, to say the least, that I was even offering this to him. I guessed it was a bit weird considering how he wasn’t 18 yet, and we’d only known each other for two weeks and just confessed our feelings the night before. But it was the only way I knew that could keep him completely safe. He needed to be here with me and not with that crazy asshole who fucked his life up every single day. I wanted to see Marco being cheerful and happy to EVERYONE because he was truly happy inside and out, and I wanted him to not feel ashamed about eating, and I wanted him to feel like he was worth something again, because no one should feel like they were only born to be someone’s punching bag.

“B-But Jean, how would…my dad would never allow that and I don’t want to burden you…”

“Hey now, you’re here like, all the fuckin time anyways! I love when you’re here! Imagine waking up like this every single day, even on school days! And screw your dad. He can fuck off. He’s been ruining you for too long.”

“Well…Wow this is just, fast. I’d love to though, really.”

He looked up at me, smiling his perfect smile, his nose crinkling a bit. He looked positively overjoyed and it was like his emotional breakdown didn’t even happen. It made me…truly, deeply happy. It made me happy because I knew that something so simple and something that had to do with ME could make him this happy and pull him right out of any despair he went through. It was indeed a bit fast to ask him to move in with me, and under different circumstances it would have been at least a year before I’d ask that, maybe. But right now, he needed to be out of that house and with someone who’d keep him safe and actually care about him. Marco was strong in himself, but he couldn’t do it alone. I couldn’t help it when I rolled over and pulled him into myself, kissing his nose and cheeks repeatedly, smiling into each and every one.

“Wow! Marco oh my god, I’m so happy…I can’t wait, it’s gonna happen today. Today and not tomorrow or any time after that! Get up, get up and get dressed.”

“My my Jean a bit overly excited are we?”

“Hey you shush, don’t sit here and tell me that you’re not excited too!”

We ended up pushing at each other until a bundle of Jean and Marco went tumbling to the floor in a heap of tangled limps and sheets, which resulted in laughter that made our ribs hurts like hell. I was glad that he was just as excited to do this. I hoped I would start seeing small changes in him over time. I loved him more than anything in the world, and if it weren’t illegal, I’d have beaten his arrogant ass of a father to a bloody pulp already for hurting him this way. I knew that our relationship would take a while to advance. Even if he didn’t think I knew it, I knew that he’d take a while to be 100% emotionally and physically ready to pursue a fully dedicated relationship. It would be hard for him to fully trust me and it would probably be very hard for him if we ever took our relationship to a sexual level. But I was willing to take it slowly for him because there was nothing I wanted more than for him to be completely and totally comfortable with me.

He showered first, taking maybe ten minutes, and took yet another one of the shirts from my ‘too big’ drawer which he’s so far kept all of them, and his jeans. He went with the ‘towel dried the fuck out of this shit’ look for his hair, which I actually preferred to his combed look. I made a remark about it which earned me a prompt slap on the ass with his towel, making me drop my coffee on the floor. I made him clean it up, but he didn’t really seem to care. After all, he’d be living here from now on and he’d have to clean up here a lot. I took a bit longer in the shower, but when I did come out I smelled food, which as always made me almost fall on my face trying to get dressed super fast. I knew that since Marco was cooking we wouldn’t be leaving for a while, so I just put on a pair of boxers, a black wife-beater, and Marco’s jacket, which I still have from the festival the night before and did not plan on returning anytime soon.

When I walked out into the kitchen, he had breaded chicken and rice on the stove and was putting two potatoes in the oven to bake, coffee already brewed and waiting in the pot. I swore that I’d never ever live with anyone else in my whole life. I walked right up to him and threw my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. 

“That smells so fucking good Marco…”

“It should be done in about ten or fifteen minutes.”

I didn’t let go of him until that fifteen minute timer went off. We just stood there completely silent and held each other. I was almost sure that the thing about the red string of fate was true. How could two people, who’ve only known each other for two weeks, already know pretty much what the other was thinking? Marco and I made silent agreements to each other just by looking into each other’s eyes. I’d look up at him with the intention to say something, and he’d stare at me and just nod, like he knew precisely what I’d say. I loved it. It made me feel warm inside that he knew me that way and I knew him that way. It was like two puzzle pieces, completing the entire picture after coming together.

We ate in the living room on the couch, barely paying attention to the TV. We actually had no idea what was on it actually. He sat with his back against the arm of the chair with me between his legs, my head resting on his chest. I was pretty sure he dropped a piece of rice in my hair on more than a few occasions, but I didn’t have the heart in me to say anything about it. I thought it was cute at the very least. It was about noon when we finished eating and started to get our shoes on. I could tell he was nervous to confront his father about moving out, and I really hoped that he didn’t have too many things to be moved.

“Do you just wanna get your clothes today, and then go back for anything else when he’s not at home?”

“Clothes are really all I have. My laptop and its charger and my phone charger is about the only other important things I have. Let’s just hurry up and get this over with.”

We had to walk to his house of course, since I was too dumb to take the car offered to me. I knew now that having Marco with me and wanting to do things with him would be harder, because before I didn’t have any reason to need to go anywhere. We’d have to walk everywhere, and not everything is close. But at least his house was only about two miles from my apartment building, which made the half hour walk not too difficult. 

I felt his aura shift to fearful when he saw his father’s car in the driveway, and his body tensed, the hand that was wrapped around mine squeezing suddenly. I gave his hand a squeeze back and smiled at him, trying to make him feel better that I was there. But I think the reason he was so scared is because I was there. He didn’t want me seeing or experiencing the way his dad was anymore than I already had. But it couldn’t be helped, and I told him that this was the last time EVER, which seemed to calm him a bit. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah…Just keep holding onto me and get to my room as quickly as possible. Ignore anything he says and don’t look at him. Once we get into my room, shut and lock the door as quickly as possible.”

I gave a curt nod before he set off towards the door, keeping me as close as he could. I had to admit that it really was frightening in his house. As soon as we stepped in, all light and fresh air seemed to cease, replaced by the pungent odor of beer and cigarettes, the yellow light bulbs giving off an almost dirty looking light. I heard his dad in the kitchen, talking to a woman who was most likely his girlfriend from the festival, and as soon as the front door shut behind me, Marco was pulling me quickly towards the hallway across the living room and to the left of the kitchen. I already heard the footsteps of his dad coming out, but remembered Marco’s warning and kept my face forward and tried not to acknowledge him at all. 

It worked, despite the ear bursting yelling that the drunken man was spewing at his son. I slammed the door and locked it, resting my back against it and exhaling heavily. 

“That was stressful…”

“Yeah, thank god I don’t have to live here anymore. Imagine doing that every night.”

“Oh god no. Fuck that, let’s pack your shit and get out.”

He nodded in agreement, pulling a black suitcase out from under his bed. I walked over to his closet and opened it, slightly disappointed at his true lack of clothes. Most of what he owned was sweatshirts, which I didn’t question because I knew why. I just started pulling stuff off of the hangers and throwing it to him, which he’d fold and put in his bag. It felt nice to be getting him out of here, and knowing how much happier he’d be away from this depressing dump made me giddy with excitement. 

It really didn’t take us too long to finish packing him up. He had one suitcase of clothing and a messenger bag with his school stuff and his laptop and chargers in it along with a grey beanie that he simply decided to wear on the way out rather than reopen his suitcase just to put it in there. 

As nerve wracking as it was to leave the sanctity of his room, we had to get out of the front door. I offered to go first, but he firmly shook his head and grabbed my hand. To my surprise, there was no crazed drunkard at the door when we opened it. In fact, it was eerily silent in the house, like no one had even been there. The lamps were shut off and everything seemed still. We took what opportunity was presented to us though, and made a dash for the front door, which we reached in record breaking time. Marco wasted no time flinging it open and dragging me outside, slamming it behind me.

“Oh god. That was scary. Okay, let’s never go back in there ever again for the rest of our lives.”

“I agree. I totally agree. My dad can suck it if he thinks I’m going back again. I’m finally free from him.”

“Yeah, you are. Let’s go home, yeah?”

We had a bit more difficulty getting back with the bags, and after 45 minutes of complaining to each other about how much our backs hurt, we finally busted into the apartment, slamming his suitcase down on the ground. I offered to carry it, which resulted in me bitching about how heavy it was. So we ended up switching every few minutes.

“Shit Marco your clothes are heavy.”

“Oh shush you didn’t have to carry the bag with all my books AND my laptop in it.”

“Psh whatever freckle boy.”

“Okay frosty tips.”

I had to narrow my eyes at that one, even though it was absolutely hilarious. We just dragged his shit into my room and he sat idly by while I cleared out half of my dresser for his things, which earned him quite a few articles of clothing to the face for not helping. It took maybe half an hour for us to put all his clothes away, because he insisted he refold them. I leapt onto the bed and screamed into my pillow asking what I’d gotten myself into, living with a neat freak. He just laughed, and it was the cutest fucking laugh ever. I’d have to do stupid shit more often…

Once he was done, he came over and laid down next to me, smiling at me like the goofball that he is. I reached over to tentatively touch his cheeks, because I love those freckles so much, I just want to touch the skin that they adorn so beautifully. He snuggled closer to me when I did so, wrapping his arms around my waist. 

“Well, this is home now. You’re here to stay. How does it feel?”

He didn’t reply. He just stared into my eyes with a barely detectible smile on his face. Before I could even realize, I felt warm lips on mine, his body flush against mine and his hand in my hair. It felt like electricity was flowing through me. But It was warm. So warm and beautiful and soft and loving as I kissed him back, reaching up to cup his cheeks in my hands and stroke them with my thumbs. I’d never felt anything like it. I felt like, at that moment, even if I had no apartment, no material possessions, nothing, I’d still be home. I’d have a home to go back to because that’s what Marco was. Being with Marco was being at home and the way he kissed me told me that he felt exactly the same. God, his lips were so soft and warm, and the way his nose fit perfectly beside mine just drove me crazy and I was putty in his arms by the time we pulled away. He simply rested his forehead against mine and smiled.

“It feels like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHECK OUT MY VERY FIRST RECEIVED FAN ART BASED ON CHAPTER 6 BY MELLIEBELLS HERE:
> 
> http://melliebels.tumblr.com/post/61104691528/for-my-pal-panda-booty-twerk-c-a-scene-from-her


	8. Don't fuck with boyfriends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship progresses in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY! Guess what, there's smut. And yes I meant that to rhyme that way. There's also a bit of foreshadowing at one point so let's see if you guys can tell me what it is? It has to do with the smutty side of the fic!  
> Please enjoy, leave comments when you're finished and lemme know how I did! <3

Now that Marco and I lived together, it was like my life took a dramatic jump from shitty to the best life one could ask for. Marco was a fucking blast to live with. He loved cooking, and did so almost every single meal, even on school days. He cleaned all the time, insisting in a much too motherly voice that my living habits were unhealthy and unsanitary, and frankly I didn’t mind it. I didn’t mind when he’d go into my closet and re-organize all of my clothes, or when he changed the bed sheets twice a week, or when he continuously vacuumed, even though he knew that the rug would be dirty again after we had our movie night. We already established tradition like regiments, such as Friday night movie night, as I already mentioned, and eating dinner together every single night, even though there wasn’t anyone else to eat with. We still made sure.

We also went on a few dates, though our options were limited to the movies and a small family owned Italian restaurant down the road. It was really good, so we didn’t mind eating there every time. He was eating regularly now, I noticed, and it made me happy to see that he actually craved meals, not turning away anything that was offered. He started putting on a bit of weight, but it just made him look cuter, which I made sure to tell him all the time. He still wore sweatshirts when we went out, but I would not breach that topic because I knew the reason and there was no point trying to get him to change that. 

At school, we had gotten used to the stares after the first two or three days, it having already been two weeks since we’d gotten together. We held hands, hugged, and sat close like any normal couple would do, giving about zero fucks about anyone who shot us a weird glance or mumbled something under their breathes. We were happy and didn’t give a shit. At all. We even kissed each other goodbye when we separated for classes, and I always made sure to give each of his cheeks a kiss also, thumbing those perfect freckles that I’d already told him how much I loved. 

I knew that by now Marco and I had a most likely permanent thing going. I loved him, and I knew for sure that I’d never love anyone else this way. I needed him and he needed me and we made sure each other knew this. We hadn’t done more than kiss, but even so, the make out session that he almost always initiated got hot and heavy and usually ended with him falling asleep and me jacking off in the shower. Of all the things that he was, being cute and sexy was his #1 takedown towards me. I’d never be able to make out with him that way and NOT want to have crazy sexy with him. I was a virgin, obviously, but I still wanted it. Though, I’d never tell him. I couldn’t.

At this point, we were really close to being done with our art assignments, and I was eager to see his painting finished. Mine had turned out really well, in terms of MY art, and I was extremely confident that he would like it. We had been sitting in class, staring at the board when the teacher asked for them, wanting to collect them a week before the due date to suggest any changes to make them better. I was frankly very nervous because I knew that Marco’s was going to be exquisite, and mine would be mediocre at best. I wasn’t nervous of the teacher or students thinking it was weird that we painted each other. Everyone, including the teachers, knew very well that Marco and I were dating. When asked about it, we stared blankly and nodded firmly, unashamed of our relationship. Mostly we earned some ‘aww’s and sometimes just a smile. There were occasions when we got a sneer, but we just laughed at their arrogance.

When we walked to the front to put our paintings in the teacher’s hand, I tried sneaking a peek at his, hoping I could at least see what style of painting he used. I was almost sure it was watercolor, my favorite, so I was content just assuming in that case. He smirked at me when he noticed me trying to look, and I couldn’t help but stick my tongue out at him. He was a sly bastard if I’d ever met one, and even though he didn’t do it much, he loved to fuck around with me in any way he could. When we’d gotten back to our seats, I turned to him and flicked his arm, putting on my best pout face.

“Marco, why won’t you let me see your painting?”

“When the assignment is done for good. I want to make sure I don’t need to fix anything. It has to be perfect.”

I knew I’d already seen it sketched, but I wanted to see it FINISHED. He was a beautiful artist, and I’d give anything to see a self portrait drawn by him. It would be so amazing, and I’d bet a million bucks he’d let me keep it. He was just like that. 

It had all been smooth sailing. No one REALLY bothered us about our relationship, and we were both doing well in classes, tutoring each other in subjects we were good at and the other was bad in. We had made a few acquaintances, Reiner and Bertholdt, and also started hanging out with Connie and Sasha again. Life was really good, and the fact that my parents continued to send us money despite the fact that my father had called me a ‘sinning faggot’ once they had learned that Marco was living with me, despite the circumstances I’d made a point of telling them. It was really, really fucking great.

Except for those few people who just did not seem to want to let others be. Those few people who want to watch the fucking world burn because they don’t approve of things and they think they’re better. Those few people who dared to fuck with me while Marco was in the office getting a form for a club he wanted to join, and I was waiting outside for him to finish. 

I had been standing against a concrete post at the bottom of the stairs, reading a book with one hand and drinking a coke with the other. It was really fucking cold out now that it was almost November, but I waited patiently anyways. I was so absorbed in my book that I didn’t hear the footsteps of those assholes walking up behind me, and I barely had time to register it when one had snatched the barely drunken soda from my hand, and promptly poured it right over my head, soaking my hair and shoulders, as well as splattering some on the library book that I would now have to pay for.

I really didn’t know what to do other than stand there, frozen on the spot and stare at them, a spark of anger but mostly confusion flickering across my face. They were really huge, towering above my short 5’10 stature at probably 6’3 or a tad taller. They were really built too, probably wrestlers or football jocks. Gross. 

“Heh, what’s wrong faggot, can’t speak? You looked like you were enjoying that coke, maybe you can enjoy it more now, have your boyfriend lick it off, or whatever it is you gross ass fags do.”

I found it in myself to speak, though not as loud or as threatening as I’d have liked due to my state of coldness increasing, the shivers turning my words into stammers of anger.

“Oh please, d-don’t you assholes have anything b-better to do than fuck with me? You’re no better j-just because you date women. Oh wait…sorry, you can’t even get a date with one of those, can you?”

I’m like, 100% sure that wasn’t something I should have said. It really fucking hurt when that guy’s fist was buried in my side, crushing my ribs and knocking the air from my lungs. I could actually feel one of my ribs break, it was that powerful. I knew my shit was about to get really fucked up, and badly. I was already kneeling over in pain when his boot collided with my shoulder, sending me top the ground in a second. It was so painful. So uncontrollably painful that I didn’t even try fighting back because moving my muscles felt like it would make my limbs fall off. I tried weakly to protest, guarding my face with my arms and mumbling for them to stop, but it didn’t work. The barrage of kicks kept coming, and coming.

Then I heard an almost animalistic growl from behind me, filled with such rage that I couldn’t have expected it to come from Marco. He hadn’t even done that when my dad hit me. Normally, my first instinct would be to call out to him and ask him to hold me, but when I rolled my head, craning my neck to see behind me where he stood, I had a gut dropping feeling that that request could not be fulfilled at the moment.

He looked down at me, his eyes really fucking dark and for a minute I forgot that they were ever brown, because the black color they took on was so prominent that if I’d just met him, id think he was possessed or something. His pretty white teeth looked like they could have ripped out someone’s jugular in three seconds flat and when he started walking towards the guys I immediately stopped fearing for my own safety, and started praying for the lack of theirs.

One would normally be afraid or feel threatened by Marco at this point, but I was just laying there beaming with pride at him for being such a fucking badass. It was really great when me looked up with angry dark eyes but kept his trademark smile plastered on his face and spoke with his kiss-ass cute voice.

“Excuse me, but just what EXACTLY do you think you are doing kicking Jean?”

“Damn the fag’s boyfriend came to rescue him, how fucking sad. What are you gonna do piss ant? Smile us to death?”

I could have gotten off to the cute but evil giggle that left Marco’s lips.

“No, I’m just going to beat you to death is all. You see,”

He began walking closer to them, his big soft hands looking threatening as he balled them at his sides.

“I don’t particularly approve of people who decide that, for no good reason, they have the right to beat people up and degrade them. You do not have that right. Especially not to Jean. I could beat you now, or you could run away like the ACTUAL pussies I KNOW you are, and then never look or speak to him ever again. What’ll it be?”

Shit, I wanted him really bad right now, and it was awesome that I was on my stomach right now because the fact that my boner was sticking into the concrete was helping my control levels stay particularly high at that point. Marco was unbelievably sexy when he got all…rough.

I noticed that as he spoke, those idiots had backed away bit by bit, seeming a little more reluctant to beat on me now that super boyfriend was here to go psycho on their asses. I appreciated Marco’s over protective side. Normally he wouldn’t come off as overprotective because he was the timid one not particularly vocal when not with me and still a bit shy, even now. It was only in public. So when they saw him act that way, it probably scared the shit right out of their tight asses.

Once they were gone, Marco let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders raising then slumping dramatically, before he turned back at me, his normal cute smile and bright brown eyes having returned to normal just for me.

“Marco,” I groaned, trying to sit up slowly.” People are gonna think you’re insane…Like, two personalities or some shi-OW…shit…”

“That was the point. Stop trying to get up.”

He walked over to me and promptly scooped me up with ease into his arms, a curious look spreading across his face.

“Why are you sticky?”

“Oh, those morons poured an entire coke on me. I feel gross, can we just go home so I can take a shower?”

He looked angry, but only for a moment before nodding, walking towards the apartment while I took the opportunity to doze off in his arms. He was comfortable and warm, as always, and it was rare that I got to be carried, or rather allowed him to carry me. So I took advantage of it because it was probably one of the only times ever that my pride would allow him to carry me like a stupid bride or some shit. 

If he hadn’t have let the door slam, I wouldn’t have even recognized that we’d gotten home. I had to rub at my face to wake myself up, tired from being beaten into the ground. Marco was sweet about it though, holding me until I nodded at him to set me down. I didn’t really say anything about the aching in my side because then Marco would start worrying and go all mamma bear on me and I just wanted to shower. So, I walked straight into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, hoping it would help the soreness.  
I didn’t really process the shower, starting to get tired again, and when I was finished I just pulled on a pair of boxers and one of Marco’s button up shirts, a pair of black socks keeping my toes warm. When I walked out of my room I saw Marco cooking dinner like he did every night, this time a pot roast. I sprawled out on the couch and could feel his eyes roaming over my bare chest and stomach, the boxers I had on set very low on my hips. I was reeling him in bit by bit and I loved it.

Once he’d gotten everything in the oven, he wandered into the living room, lifting my legs to sit under them and place them in his lap. I liked sitting here this way together, but at the moment I was still thinking about how ridiculously attractive Marco had looked earlier. 

“Hey, thanks for helping me earlier. Those guys packed a fucking punch…”

“Yeah, well I may not be okay with fighting off people who bully me but once I find something important to protect I leave all morals in the dust. No one touches you but me. No one.”

“Ooh Marco, I love when you’re possessive. It’s…sexy.”

He turned his head to face me, the freckled cheeks dusted with a bit of a blush and the hands that were rubbing up and down my calves halted. It was cute when he got embarrassed. I found myself sitting up to straddle his lap, my hands splayed across his chest and my eyes on his lips that were slightly parted as if asking me to ravage and bruise them with my own. I knew by the hitch in his breathing and the sudden grip on my hips that he was getting turned on, and I wasted no time leaning in to capture those perfect lips with my own. We didn’t fight for dominance, I just let him have it. I was going to let him have everything, and there wasn’t a single thought in my brain that was hesitant about that.

His tongue felt good against mine and he tasted so good, exploring every inch of my mouth with his tongue, making me moan breathlessly into his mouth. I was already wrapping my arms around his neck, setting myself lower in his lap and moving my hips a bit to satisfy my insatiable need for friction against my hips. I craved him in that moment and all I wanted was for him to touch me, and I wanted his mouth on many more places that just my own. 

“M-Marco, please, more…”

He replied with not words but actions, sliding his hands to grip my ass tightly and pushing me down into his lap, my already hard and ridiculously aching cock grinding against his jeans. Holy shit I hadn’t ever heard a moan like that one come from my mouth ever in my life, and at that point I was desperately grinding into him, my lips still claimed by his in a sloppy heated kiss. But he grew tired of that and began licking and kissing hot trails down my neck and across my throat, up my neck again and behind my ear, nibbling on the lobe. God it felt so good and the visible shudder must have been obvious because he didn’t hesitate to reach between us and pull down my boxers, which earned a satisfied groan from me. I wanted him to touch me, and I wanted him to do it now.

I expected to feel his large hands wrap around me and take me to heaven but instead I couldn’t stifle a yelp as he flipped me onto the couch under him and slung my legs over his shoulders, licking around my hip bones and giving them harsh nibbles of excitement. I moaned a bit at the contact to one of my more sensitive areas and reached down to tangle one hand in messy black hair. He moved lower, then being the tease he is, licked up my thigh, and I shuddered, loving the way it tickled but also sent shockwaves of immeasurable pleasure up my spine. I couldn’t speak coherent thoughts so I opted for moaning loudly and bucking my hips into him, needing release soon. 

I literally saw white flash in my eyes, purely from sensory overload as he slid on hand up, thumbing over one of my nipples and promptly twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. I ignored the pain in my ribs when my back arched up, leaving the couch completely and I moaned out Marco’s name in such a wanton manner that I was surprised I still even had a cock for him to be staring hungrily at. God this felt so good, and when he FINALLY slid his lips over the head, licking the slit teasingly with his tongue I couldn’t even make a sound, tossing my head back and realizing that my body was already slick with sweat and the only sound I was making was a strangled one, rolling into his mouth as he slowly slid down to take me all the way in. God that was sexy. He took me all the way back and moaned, the vibrations surging through my entire being.

By this point I was fully gripping his hair as he bobbed up and down, sucking and licking as he went, still teasing my nipples and sending me into a whining sweaty mess beneath him. My hair was stuck to my forehead and I was sure that my face was flushed and my eyes half lidded, lustful at the beautiful boy now between my legs sucking my cock so well that I swore I was gonna cum soon. There was a thin line of saliva dripping out of the corner of my mouth, my head lolling to the side every few seconds as tried to refrain from bucking up into his mouth.

Finally though, with one final arch of my back and a scream unlike any other, I came in his mouth while I was taken to the hilt, watching him as he didn’t move a muscle except to swallow every drop of what was in his mouth, his face flushed and sweaty as much as mine. It was a sight to see, and frankly if I hadn’t been so suddenly exhausted, it would have spurred me on for more. When he pulled away, I relaxed completely, basically a puddle on the couch cushion. One of my legs dropped off the side, my foot landing with a thud on the carpeted wood floor and my eyes closed while I tried to slow my breathing. I cracked one open to see him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and then reach down to pull my boxers back over my hips. He then crawled up, laying his head on my chest and kissing at it lazily.

“How was that?”

“W-wow…”

“Good…”

I felt myself and him falling asleep, gladly remembering that dinner was on a timer for three hours. I hoped that we’d go further, because obviously he didn’t seem to have any issues with sexual advances. I called him sexy once and he sucked my cock so well that I’ll be dreaming about it for days. I just hoped that the speed at which things were moving wouldn’t lead him to believe that it was all I wanted. I knew he could be sensitive in that way and all that he’d been through could possibly lead him to have doubts. I’d decided before I fell completely asleep that we’d go on a really nice date the next weekend. We both needed to get out of the house, and I hadn’t had any good eggplant Parmesan in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, did you find the foreshadowing? Can ya tell me what it was?


	9. Relapse and Recovery Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever truly goes away. Not this soon at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry omg  
> Okay so Breanne helped me a lot with this chapter, her tumblr is ask-irl-shitty-glasses and she's super cool. Also her AO3 is Riverspirit86, go check it out :)  
> I'm sorry bout dis chapter but there's a second part so do not fret too much  
> please try to enjoy a little  
> leave comments and lemme know how I did! <3

Jean’s POV:  
After Marco and I had dinner, I told him that on Friday we’d be going out on a real date. I said that I was buying him dinner and then we were going for a walk around downtown. But he protested, as always, simply because the bus fares to the downtown strip were too expensive. I never understood why he thought that was an issue, but I’d assumed it was only out of modesty and not wanting to be paid for on literally every date. But he never seemed to understand that I enjoyed seeing him happy, whether it be from me purchasing a book for him, or his favorite peanut-butter chocolate ice cream from the vender in front of the bookstore. I loved seeing him smile like that, happy to receive things without having to work or struggle for them. It made me happy when he was happy, so no matter how much he protested, I’d continue to do small things like that for him.

As per the rest of the week at school, it went by fast because we were simply excited to spend a night out of the apartment. We usually only went out on weekend nights because we liked to sleep a lot, and not having enough sleep put us in foul ass moods at school. We learned that the hard way when everyone avoided us like the plague upon seeing us both walk into school looking like frustrated zombies. If we hadn’t been dead tired from going to see a movie at 10pm the night before, we’d have found it hilarious. So school nights were ultimately spent cuddling on the couch watching cheesy horror movies, and I was perfectly content with that. 

Friday, however, came quickly and it was already fourth period before I’d even realized. Marco and I didn’t have many classes apart, since he was in mostly advanced classes, but we did have 4th and 6th in different rooms. So, as of now I was sitting in my French class, listening to the teacher drawl on about adverbs and which forms to tack onto what action. It was bland at best.

Marco’s POV:

I intensely dislike this class. It’s probably the worst time of the day for me, and I’d do anything to be able to avoid it. I do not like being away from Jean for any extended period of time. He’d my comfort blanket and even though I still fear everyone around me, and feel really uncomfortable, he’s there that that makes it better. He doesn’t make everything bad go away, not even close, and though it hurts me to say it, I don’t think he ever will. I love Jean. I love him more than I love myself, and while most may say that’s not a good outlook to have, I don’t care. If I have him, I have a will to live. I WANT to be alive and breathing and I DON’T want to hurt myself anymore as long as I’m with him. So, being away from him makes me want to sink into myself and hide from any other pair of eyes that might rest on me. I needed him to be able to stay afloat, and during those two classes of the day when we were apart, I wanted to fall off the face of the earth. 

Basically, right this second, I was getting my point handed to me on a silver platter. People weren’t ACTUALLY looking at me. I don’t have a problem knowing this fact and accepting it. No one is really looking at me. But, I FEEL like they are, and I’m afraid that they will. All that runs through my head when I’m not with him is ‘please don’t look at me. Go away. Please stop looking at me and thinking about me and judging me just stop please.’ It’s sad really, because no one is doing that. Not one single person because no one gives a shit what I do or who I am or that I’m even HERE right now. But my mind will never let me fully believe that.

I was currently in my Health and Fitness class, and it had come to that time of the year where we switched from bookwork over to gym, for which we had to dress out for in the locker room. I remember hearing the teacher say that and feeling my entire body go rigid with nerves and anxiety. I immediately froze and the resting tremors came back into my hands and fingers and I could have died right there, if it weren’t for Shadis yelling for us to get into the locker room and change within ten minutes. His loud gruff voice had scared me right out of my inner thoughts.

I didn’t want to change in front of people. If Jean were there I’d be confident enough to just get it over with, but everyone was so close, and they could all see me. There weren’t stalls, and the showers were just as open. I knew I wouldn’t be taking any of those either. It was like the walls had eyes and everything I did, I did with shaky hands and a shortness of breath because I was internally begging everyone not to look. It was truly emotionally exhausting and I really wanted to leave and go to Jean so he could kiss my freckles that before I’d met him I really hated. I finally got through it though, only changing my jeans to some gym shorts. I didn’t want to change my shirt, even though I knew I’d have to afterwards. At least then, though, I could just wait till everyone left. I wouldn’t mind being late to 5th period once.

Shadis had us running laps that day, much to my frustration, and I knew by then I’d definitely have to change all of my clothes. I sweat way too much when I ran. Not as much as Bertholdt did, but still enough to where keeping the same shirt on afterwards would actually be offensive. I was a good runner, able to run a mile in about 10 minutes and stay away from the danger of having a massive heat stroke along with it. The only reason I didn’t enjoy it was, again, all of the people around me and a severe lack of Jean. We finished sooner than later though, and I spent the trudge back to the locker room in deep thought. 

I really needed to stop relying on Jean so much. What was wrong with me? He’s my boyfriend, and I love him dearly, but do I really need to be hanging off of him in order to enjoy my life? What would I do if we went to separate colleges? He’s going to be graduated next year. He already promised that he wouldn’t be moving out of the apartment, but that still left me alone for school. It was literally terrifying to say the least, and it made me want to cry because I truly needed him to even function. I’ve tried to figure it out myself already, why I need Jean so much, and I did one night when he fell asleep in my lap during a movie and I got lost in thought, playing with the blonde tuft that was against my chest.

Jean made me feel human. When I was alone in that bedroom, filled with dank air and an aura of threat and malice, all I could do was shrink into myself even more, hating what I’d become and at the time thought I’d always be. Worthless. I felt so small and like I had such little worth, that I began hurting myself, trying to gain control and feel alive again. But nothing ever worked. When I met Jean though, he saw me when no one else, not even myself, would. He didn’t care that I was shy, and reached out to me anyways. He saw past my crazy self hatred, eating disorder, shyness, scars, and everything else and simply loved me for who he knew I really was. He told me I was beautiful even though there wasn’t an ounce of myself that believed it.

That’s why, I decided, I can’t be happy if I’m away. I need that constant reminder that I’m worth something because I’m not yet at the point in my healing process where I can tell myself that on my own. I need him with me to feel happy and comfortable. So, here in this locker room of strangers, surrounding me in close quarters, I felt claustrophobic and nervous, and I really just wanted to go home. I waited though, impatiently, until everyone but a few guys on the other side of the lockers had left to start changing. I pulled my shirt over my head, grimacing at how it stuck wetly to the small of my back and ruffled my hair up. I knew Jean was proud of me for starting to eat regularly and putting on a few more pounds. He thought the little bump under my belly button was so cute, always nuzzling his head into my stomach like a soft pillow. I really liked it. 

But not everyone does enjoy those who don’t have perfect bodies and feel as though they are at liberty to criticize them into believing that their bodies are in fact inadequate. I had been searching through my duffle bag for a shirt that would go with the dark wash of my jeans when the three guys on the other side of the locker rounded the corner to exit the room. I noticed, with much distress, that these were the same guys that had messed with Jean earlier that week and I immediately attempted to hide my face from view, praying that they either forgot me or wouldn’t notice me. 

Well let’s just say that they did notice me and I was already mortified by the sneer I received when one of them scanned over my body with his eyes. If another male other than Jean looking at me that way wasn’t enough to make me break down, what they started saying definitely was. Mind you, I’ve been beaten up plenty of times, but never had I ever been emotionally attacked because of how I looked. Granted I’d never given anyone the chance to do so, what with the giant hoodies I wore all the time. I tried hiding my arms the best I could at that point, feeling like being made fun of for them would be worse than for anything else. Luckily they didn’t seem too focused on those, mostly the rest of me.  
I still had on my gym shorts, albeit they were sitting kind of low on my hips and my clean tshirt hung loosely from my hand. I felt my face redden as he stood there staring at me with the single most disgusted look I’d ever seen someone wear on their face.

“Wow, look at this. You act so tough but you ain’t got not one ounce of muscle on you, all fat. You think you could beat us up with that body? Heh, sad really.”

I didn’t move, or dignify them with a dirty look or response. I just stood there and took it. Would it really be worth it after all, to risk causing more trouble by threatening them again? I figured if I simply took the blunt of their bullshit, they’d at least leave Jean alone knowing they had me to pick on. I knew I’d put on weight, but as far as Jean thought, it was cute. But Jean wasn’t there, so like old times their words ate at me and burned like branding irons, coining me as their bait for crippling insults and a barrage of hate. It hurt, but I didn’t cry. I didn’t even look at them. I just looked at the floor and waited for them to be done.

They left eventually, allowing me to slowly pull on my shirt and change back into my jeans before solemnly walking out of the locker room, the bell having already rung ten minutes beforehand. I’d be very late, but I couldn’t let Jean see that I was upset. He had to continue thinking I was okay because I was making him so proud by getting better and if I disappointed him I’d just be a piece of shit for making him sad. I’d be worthless again because I knew that in my own happiness, Jean found his. So I had to pretend. I just plastered on one of my smiles that I always fooled the world with and made my way to history class.

Jean’s POV:

Marco was late. Marco doesn’t come late for anything and never has. I knew I shouldn’t have been worrying because he’s not a baby and I don’t need to be there to take care of him all the time, but I couldn’t help but tap my heel on the tile rapidly and wring my hands as the teacher talked on and on. I was nervous that something happened and honestly if he got hurt and I wasn’t there to help him, I’d be so angry. The seat behind me seemed so hollow and it was like there was a great void of nothingness because I honestly feared in my heart that someone had fucked with him again.

I opted for simply laying my head in my arms, trying to calm down and settle my nerves. But when I heard the door click open five minutes later I shot out of my seat and walked up to Marco, ignoring the stares and curious look from the teacher. 

“Where were you!? I was so worried!”

“Jean, please stop, we’re gonna get in trouble…I had some trouble getting my gym locker open to change, everything is fine. Let’s go sit down okay?”

He was calm with me, though the underlying tone in his voice was stern and basically screaming at me to sit the fuck down and stop drawing attention. I complied, but only because he smiled at me and his reason was logical enough. We both sat through the class quietly and I received a strangely needy kiss when we had to part again. After that the day went by smoothly and we both seemed extremely happy when the bell rang to signal the end of the day. 

We held hands when we walked home, like always, and the warmth of his hand was greatly appreciated by me. I noticed though, by the way his hands were gripping mine a bit tightly, that something was off. I most likely wouldn’t say anything because I knew how he got when I asked him, and I wouldn’t get a clear answer anyway, but he was thinking about something a bit too thoroughly and it wasn’t something good by any means. I now had much more initiative to make our date even better, because whatever shitty thing was rearing its head in his mind, I wanted to chase away. 

I’d had this surprise in mind, and the fact that our relationship was beginning to get more serious made it a perfect time to break out such a nice evening. I knew Marco wouldn’t approve so before we even went I decided not to tell him anything, which I knew probably wasn’t the best idea, but it would be worth it even though he’d be nervous as shit because of the secretiveness of it all. 

When we got home I’d pulled him straight into our room and started rummaging through the closet to find us the appropriate clothing. We definitely couldn’t be showing up at this place in what we usually trekked around in, so I was taking the extra time to really pick something nice for the both of us. 

“Marco, what compliments purple well?”

“Huh? Why? Can’t we just go in what we’re wearing now?”

“Uh, no.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere. No c’mere so I can dress you up all sexy and stuff.”

“You can’t tell me where we’re going? Why?”

“It’s a surprise okay? Please come here.”

I walked over and grabbed his hands, lazily dragging him over to the closet to hold up the two shirts I’d picked, one dark purple and one black, trying to figure out which one would look best against his skin. I eventually opted for purple on him, mostly because I felt more comfortable in black and it was a bit smaller than the purple one. As much as I love seeing Marco in tight clothes, that’s for the apartment and my eyes only. Finally, I’d gotten him to change and stop asking me so many questions. Of course I understood why he was doing it, but I truly wanted it to be a surprise and I hoped he’d be happy, even though I could see the skepticism in his eyes.

We looked hot as fuck, and I was sure Marco agreed. We both had on black slacks and our dress shirts, his with a black tie and mine with a light green one, and we both just wore converse for our footwear choice. It wasn’t THAT fancy that we had to torture ourselves not only with slightly less than comfortable clothes but also uncomfortable shoes. We’d be walking around a lot, so it was for the best. He had his hair combed and mine was sticking up haphazardly as was usual.

“Well well Mr. Bodt aren’t you a sight to see?”

“Thanks, but I still wanna know where we’re going…”

“You can know when we get there.”

I leaned up to kiss him softly, my fingers barely brushing the back of his neck at the hairline. It was cute how he shivered. We grabbed jackets, seeing as how it was November and it was absolutely freezing outside and we’d probably end up standing at the bus stop for a good half an hour.

We did, and the whole time we were both about to die, huddling close trying to keep warm in the thin jackets. The stupid bus did come eventually though, and the entire ride to the downtown area was spent with me grumbling about needing to finally get a car because this was ridiculous and if I had to take one more bus ride id become a damn hermit. We finally got there though, and the short walk from the bus stop to the restaurant was spent just talking about stuff related to school because anytime away from school was spent together and we didn’t need to tell each other those stories. I saw the restaurant we were going to and pulled on Marco’s arm to get him to stop walking. It was a pretty upscale and I could immediately tell that he didn’t approve as soon as I looked up at his face.

“Jean, this is too expensive.”

“No, it isn’t. I wanted to take you on a really nice date, and if that means spending a little extra then so be it.”

He opened his mouth to protest but I simply captured his lips in a soft kiss and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my chin on his chest and looking up at him. I wanted him to forget the price and enjoy a night out with me. I made it very clear that price doesn’t affect me at all but I knew he’d never let up about it. He sighed, and I turned to walk in and claim our reservation, towing him behind me by the wrist. 

We sat in a nice booth by the window and our waiter was a blonde man who stood above both of us at probably 6’2 and was very nice, smiling at us when he brought back our drinks. Marco looked a little upset at me, and normally one wouldn’t be able to tell because he didn’t really look angry, he just didn’t have an actual expression on his face. I could tell though. He was actually mad this time. 

“Hey, please don’t be upset. I’m really happy to do these things for you. So just order whatever you want. I promise it’s okay, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Okay, okay, well…thank you Jean, I appreciate it.”

“Well I love you, so only the best yeah?”

He just smiled at me, reaching over and taking my hand in his.

“I love you too.”

I loved when he told me that, and even though we weren’t the type of couple to say it all the time, we said it before bed every night and it never stopped sending happy chills down my spine and never failed to make me smile no matter how frustrated I was at the day. I thought I could see the skepticism draining from his face, hoping that he’d just enjoy himself the rest of the night.

I saw his face twist into something of disbelief when we looked at the menus, definitely at the prices, but didn’t say anything. I ended up ordering a steak and roasted potatoes with a Caesar salad, and I literally felt my mouth water at the thought of it all, being absolutely starving from not having eaten a very large lunch. I handed the waiter my menu and sat back, content, until that is I heard Marco order a plain garden salad and I’m almost sure the look on my face would have one thinking I didn’t know the boy next to me from the confusion plastered on my face.

“Are you sure that’s all you want?”

“Yeah, I ate a huge lunch. I promise I’m not that hungry.”

He gave me that smile again, the one that he used when he was trying so incredibly hard to get me to believe him and move on, like he was begging me to drop whatever we were talking about and not bring it up again. I saw through it, just like always, but didn’t say anything because I knew it would hurt his feelings.

When our food came, I hungrily, but politely, dug in, too hungry to wait. It took me all of twenty seconds to realize that he was picking at his salad, barely taking substantial bites and drinking mostly water. I’d seen this before. When he first started coming over, he’d eat one slice of pizza, or half a bowl of rice, or a small ass helping of whatever we were eating, but then would drink about three to four glasses of water to substitute the food and trick himself into thinking he was full. Shit.

“Oh Marco…not again…”

He looked at me with a hint of fear in his eyes, like he’d been caught stealing and it made me melt with sadness because he was doing it again and I KNEW he felt bad about it. He tried so hard but it was just too obvious to hide and it killed him because I knew that he knew how much I didn’t like it and that made him guilty. But what surprised me was when his fear turned into slight anger as he gripped his fork tightly and stared at me.

“Marco what the hell…you were doing so well!”

“Just shut up Jean…”

I think I stopped breathing. Yeah, I did and it hurt. It felt like he kicked me in the chest and it really fucking hurt. He’d never told me to shut up before and he’d never had that agitated tone with me either. He was pissed off at me.

“I…I’m sorry I just worry about you…”

“I didn’t even want to come here but I did to make you happy. Don’t start that crap with me in public.”

“Well…we can go home if you want. You only had to say so…”

“Finish eating and then we’ll leave. I want to go to bed…”

I nodded, now having lost my appetite and barely ended up finishing my food. I paid as quickly as I could and walked out of the building without even looking at Marco because I knew he was upset and if I looked at him right now I’d probably burst into stupid fucking tears. I had seen him angry, and I’d seen him sad, and just about everything else, but I didn’t even know what this was. It was something painfully close to annoyance, and that was 100X worse than anger.

Just as the second half of dinner had been, the walk and bus ride were just as silent and tense and we literally didn’t say one word to each other. I was just upset for even saying anything. I should have kept my mouth shut but no, dumbass Jean had to open his mouth again and fuck everything up. Why didn’t he just say he didn’t wanna go? He protested about the price but he never told me he didn’t want to be out at all. I honestly felt like a walking pile of shit and all I wanted to do was take a shower, climb into bed, and apologize a million and one times to Marco. 

However, when we finally got home and I walked through the door ahead of him, he was quick to walk in and loudly slam the door behind him, walking towards me to block me from walking any further. I was actually scared for a split second because he’d NEVER done this before. Ever.

“Um, Marco?”

“The fuck Jean?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you insist on doing that? What I do is my business. I can eat what I want and however much of it I want and I don’t need your input because did you ever think that maybe that just makes me feel worse? Like I’m letting you down? I don’t need you acting like what I do is some sad thing that needs fixing. It’s humiliating and upsets me because I KNOW it makes you sad and even though I’ll still KNOW that you know, you don’t have to bring it up and make me feel worse!”

“M-Marco I’m sorry I…I didn’t mean to…”

“Of COURSE you didn’t ‘mean to’. Just stop okay? I’m allowed to want to lose weight if I want to.”

“But you don’t need to! I thought you were okay with how you looked, you were doing so well!”

“Maybe you just convinced yourself that I felt like that because YOU thought I looked good!”

“No…I really thought you were okay…”

“Yeah right!”

I felt my heart crack in half because he honestly believed that he looked fat. He honestly thought that I was lying to him for selfish reasons. He was honestly mad at me, and that made me frantic. He couldn’t be mad at me, not like this. It wasn’t okay. I wanted everything to stop, to go back to normal like it had been yesterday. Something had to have happened today that I didn’t know about. He wouldn’t just snap back to his old ways…right? Something happened and I wish he’d have just told me instead of doing…whatever he was trying to do. 

“Marco please…Just…calm down…”

“Calm? I’ll show you calm, then.”

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gomengomengomengomengomengomengomen


	10. Relapse and Recovery Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco teaches Jean that he's not a baby that can't handle himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm you guys so this is like, SUPER SMUT WATCH OUT SMUT IS ON THE RADAR THIS IS LIKE, SUPER FUCKING SMUTTY SO LIKE, BE WARNED.  
> Okay well, ahem, please enjoy, comment and lemme know how I did.  
> ta-ta for now  
> Also I want everyone to know that though it isn't plainly stated, since the story is told from first person, Jean's inner monologue makes it quite clear that he is consentual about what happens. He doesn't want it to stop, and he'd perfectly okay with it. So please don't comment saying that there was 'rape' or 'no consent was given' because the characterization I gave Marco, he would stop if Jean asked him to. But he didn't ask, so Marco didn't stop, because JEAN LIKED IT.

I’d liked to have believed that it was my imagination when I was pushed against the wall and felt a rough knee between my thighs, pressing up into my groin. It was painful, yes, but nothing that made me scream out. That is, until I also felt hot lips and wet teeth on my neck, the pressure almost enough to break skin. My whine of pain interrupted out when, suddenly, there were hands holding my wrists to either side of my head. It was a foreign experience because I had never been treated this way. I could feel that, even though there was unmistakable pain, it wasn’t his intention to actually hurt me. I knew he wouldn’t do that. No, he was trying to teach me a lesson about him that I wouldn’t soon forget and would eventually lead me to see him in a completely different way.

He trailed up my neck, right over my pulse, to rest his lips on my jaw right below my ear. His whispered words came out in a voice completely unfamiliar to me.

“I believe that if we are to be in a relationship, it’s far past time for you to realize that I’m not some baby who can’t hold his own…”

“M-Marco…Ah!”

His knee pressed harder in between my legs, causing me to involuntarily roll my hips into him. He brought both of my hands together straight over my head, able to keep them there with only one of his. He began unbuttoning my shirt, throwing the tie and jacket to the floor. I moaned at the cool air hitting my heated body and tossed my head back against the wall with a light thud when he started kissing and biting roughly across my collarbones. It felt like wave after wave of pleasure was building up more and more intensely as he moved along my skin, covering a large area of the pale surface with large, purple bruises. 

He was taking his time but was also extremely rough with me, letting go of my wrists and yanking off my pants only to hook his arms underneath my knees. With a low grunt, he pulled me up, pressing me harder against the wall with his hips. It felt so good, and I didn’t even have time to register that I was actually naked, already sweating and quivering to every touch he gave me. I needed more but I had a feeling he was going to take this painstakingly slow and that he wouldn’t make our first time anything to forget. He was going to fuck me roughly and mercilessly and even in that moment when he was stretching my legs upwards to the point where it hurt like hell and when he broke my skin multiple times with his teeth, I couldn’t say that I minded any of it.

Marco was sexy as fuck when he was so . . . rough. I wanted more, I needed it, and I wasn’t particularly sure that this was going to be teaching me anything, because I’d be perfectly fine with this if he did it again. He pulled away from the wall, and, still carrying me and kissing hungrily at my body, walked into our room, throwing me on the bed and flipping me onto my stomach. This was all he did, and god I was already rolling my hips desperately into the bed, grateful for the much needed friction. I wanted him inside me and I made it very clear with how loudly and wantonly I was whining for him. 

I was confused when a black cloth was laid over my eyes and tied tightly behind my head, the same for my mouth, but quickly came to realization of exactly what game he was planning on playing. I was already close and I didn’t know how long he planned on putting off actually fucking me. All of my other senses were heightened from the lack of sight and his palm on my ass was making my rut into the stupid mattress like a horny dog. I knew he’d put some kind of gag on me for a reason but when he pulled back and gave a firm smack to the sensitive skin, I let out what sounded like a mix between a scream and a shaky moan, loving the stinging pain that went through me. 

I assumed he liked when I shuddered like that, smacking me again and again, until I could FEEL the welted hand print on my ass. I could hear him behind me looking for something, and when he reached over me to pull my hands behind my back, I felt the scratchy material wrapping around my wrists and moaned with the knowledge that it was rope. I never knew that either of us was into this kind of stuff, but there was no doubting or resisting it now. I was lying on my knees, unable to see or make coherent sounds, with my ass in the air, still burning from Marco’s hands. I didn’t need to see him to know that he had a smirk on his face, sitting back staring at his handiwork, intent on making me wait and beg for him.

He started digging around again, probably in a bag that was in the closet, and I felt a couple things land on the bed near me, peaking my curiosity. I heard him climbing onto the bed behind me and when I felt his legs brush against me, I figured out that he had undressed too. He knelt behind me in between my legs and leaned over my back, pressing himself flush against me. I could feel his cock rubbing against my ass, already completely hard, the touch drawing a breathy whine from my lips. He began kissing down my spine, stopping when he reached the spot that my tied wrists lay immobile. When his warmth left my body I spoke up with a muffled whine of protest, until I heard a small pop, most likely from a bottle of lube. Pleasure wracked my body simply from thinking about what he was going to do.

“You know Jean, I do appreciate you not fighting me on this . . . it seems you’re so much more fuckable when you’re submissive.”

I couldn’t form a reply, not that I really wanted to. His voice was so sexy at that point and I couldn’t wait to hear him talk to me like that when he was leaned over me, his cock buried inside me. He reached forward and put his fingers through my hair, resting them on the knot for the gag that was in my mouth. He pulled roughly on it, my head rearing back and my back arched painfully downward. 

“I’ll take this off, but if you can be a good boy and only make a sound when I say so.”

I nodded vigorously as he chuckled lowly, pressing his hips into my ass testing to see if I’d really obey. I managed to bite back the moan but I could already feel my thighs trembling and my cock aching with the need to be touched and, if he didn’t allow me to do anything soon, I didn’t think I’d last too long. When he pulled the knot loose, the cloth fell from my mouth and his fingers went back into my hair, pulling at it roughly, as if to taunt me for not being allowed to make any noise. I’d assumed though, when he pulled his hand away from my head and sat back on his legs, that he was moving onto matters more serious. I could practically hear him smearing lube on his fingers.

“Don’t make a sound.”

Even though I couldn’t see, the vision inside my eyelids went white when I felt two fingers enter me, slicked and cold. It was painful but it felt so fucking good to finally be touched in some way and I wanted to badly to scream out for him to give me more. Slowly, he began thrusting them in and out, scissoring and curling them slightly and I could feel the lustful look he was giving me, rutting against his fingers, silently begging for more. He added a third, this time rougher and his other hand grabbed my hips pulling me back onto them. He seemed to like it when I practically rutted against him like that. 

After he’d had enough of watching me squirm underneath me, he gave one final thrust of his fingers, hitting a spot deep inside of me that made me almost lose control of the silence I was supposed to keep. I heard him chuckle with amusement and pull them out, giving the sore side of my ass a light slap before he stood up from the bed completely. I’d wondered now what he was about to do, having left the bed, and all I could do was try to control my breathing and keep quiet. 

I expected that he’d keep me waiting on purpose, torturing me with the pressure in my groin that needed desperately to be released. I wanted to call out for him and beg. I wanted to throw every ounce of control and dignity out the window and beg him to fuck me. I didn’t, however, expect the feeling of something that definitely wasn’t Marco, entering me, painstakingly slowly. I shuddered, HARD, and had to bite my lip to keep from whining out to him. He pushed it in as deep as he could before moving it around inside me, forcing me to thrust back out of intense need. I NEEDED this.

He wasn’t going to give it to me just yet though. I felt him stand up again and listened carefully, still shivering from the pleasure of being filled, as he got back onto the bed, this time in front of me. I knew that only meant one thing, and I found my mouth starting to hang open in anticipation of the thing to come. I’d never done anything this kinky and now anything else seemed weak in comparison. The neediness that I felt was so arousing that I thought that I could cum right then and there.

He gripped my shoulders, helping me lean up a bit, and bent over to kiss me. It was softer than I’d thought it would be, and his fingers didn’t grip my hair this time. He just ran his hands through it and kissed me deeply, both of our breathing erratic. I still couldn’t really move far by myself because he kept my hands tied, so when he let me go I hit the mattress roughly, my face most likely right in front of his cock. 

I opened my mouth, inching forward as he once again tightly gripped my hair, guiding me forward. When my mouth enveloped the head of his cock I heard him breathlessly moan, shudders finally wracking him instead of myself. I kept going though, knowing that I had a very insensitive gag reflex, all the way until I’d taken him all the way. I wanted to moan around him, send vibrations up his spine and make him melt for me, effectively switching our rolls. But I settled for using my tongue to lick up the vein as I pulled away slowly, applying a liberal amount of suction making him buck into my mouth. When only the head remained in my mouth I used the tip of my tongue to lick across the slit, saliva already starting to coat my chin. I started bobbing up and down slowly, being sure to use my tongue to lick all over his shaft each time. He was rolling into my mouth, breathing heavily and moaning out when I pulled away to blow cold air on the tip of his spit soaked cock.

I knew he was too close, because he pulled away from me, bending down to hungrily kiss me again, trailing across my lips with his tongue. He made his way back behind me and palmed across my ass, kneading it and most likely staring at the sight of my ass in the air with a very large dildo still inside, precum dripping from my cock. He knew how much I needed him to fuck me, apparently, because he removed the dildo and tossed it aside, helping me flip over to lie on my back. 

“Mmm, Jean, look at you…So deliciously needy…”

He pulled my legs over his shoulders, his hands on my thighs, and leaned over to lick up my stomach and chest to put his lip over one of my nipple. He flicked his tongue across it and biting softly, moaning against it. I arched up into him, despite how badly my legs hurt from being stretched so far, and pressed into his touch. 

“Beg me. Beg for my cock.”

I tossed my head back and bucked my hips into him at the sound of his voice. It was so deep and husky, and so incredibly sexy that I didn’t mind whining like a girl.

“Marco . . . please, please fuck me Marco, do it now! I need you . . . inside of me, ah . . . Please . . .”

My throat was dry from how heavily I was breathing and I could feel my thighs tremor along with the tenseness of my stomach. I was drenched in sweat by now, my bangs plastered to my face and my cheeks were most likely deep red. I was rolling my hips into him at an uncontrollable pace now, physically begging for him to take me. My fingers hurt from gripping the sheets so tightly.

Just when I thought the torture would last forever, he leaned back a bit and I could feel the head of his cock begin to press into me. My breath hitched as he entered me, stretching me out much more than the dildo ever could. I let out a long, high pitched moan at how fucking fantastic he felt, his cock feeling much bigger once actually inside of me. 

“M-Move, please, fuck me until I can’t fucking move . . . Marco, Please!”

He didn’t need me to tell him twice, gripping my waist roughly, pulling out and snapping his hips forward. He moaned lowly and breathlessly, dipping his head and starting to move. The more I moaned and whined for him, the faster he went, ramming deeply into me to make me scream more. It didn’t even matter that I couldn’t see, or that my hands hurt from laying on them. All that mattered was Marco’s cock inside of me and his low groans of pleasure so close to my face I could feel his hot breath every time he thrust into me. I felt myself getting close, the wanton mantra of very loud ‘Ah’s coming from my mouth starting to get frantic and winded. He leaned close to me, his face almost buried in my neck.

“Cum, Jean. Cum from my dick alone.”

I didn’t need him to touch me. He was hitting my sweet spot every single time he rammed into me and it sent me arching off the mattress with a silent scream as I finally released onto my chest, my entire body tightening around Marco. I felt him shudder with his release shortly after mine, covering my insides with his cum. We were both too out of breath to move, simply staying there, him looming above me trying to catch his breath. I closed my eyes, even though I couldn’t see anyway, and relaxed my entire body, my legs falling from his shoulder and my head lolling to the side. I was relieved when he reached up and took the blindfold off, and then rolled me on my side to untie my hands. I didn’t move after that, except to tiredly cuddle into the pillows. I wasn’t angry, because I really enjoyed it. That was the best sex I’d ever had and I planned on letting it happen again. But the pretenses it fell under made me uneasy. 

He lifted me up silently, pulling the covers back and placing me back down softly and tucking me in. I have to say that he looked shocked when I kept my arms around him, wanting him to stay, and I really hoped he didn’t think I was upset about what happened. He did lie down though, and I was quick to curl into his chest, my head tucked under his chin. 

“I’m sorry, Marco . . .”

“It isn’t your fault. I was too defensive.”

He was whispering, very softly, I realized that we both had something we felt guilty about and trying to apologize to each other would only lead to frustration. I cuddled closer to him, kissing his collarbone softly and wrapping my arms around his neck to run my fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

“Let’s just let it go. I . . . really enjoyed that, by the way. Best first time I could’ve asked for.”

“Ah . . . That’s good . . .”

I could tell he was exhausted and really, I was too. The only thing that mattered at that point was that we were okay and happy again. I felt myself falling asleep quickly, so before both of us were totally unconscious, I leaned up and kissed his lips softly, moving over to each cheek to kiss his lovely freckles. Each and every one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well? did I smut right? I don't think I did the smut thing right. did i write good porn guys?


	11. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other people don't always make the road to recovery easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, please don't read if cutting triggers you. Don't. Go away, get out. If I get an email or a message or a comment about how you got upset, I'LL get upset and shove my foot up your ass. Enough, read the warnings otherwise don't blame me.   
> ANY WHOOOO, please enjoy, yadda yadda...

That weekend went by fast. Every second of it. Seeing as how we both slept 80% of the time, Saturday and Sunday were complete blurs. Those days were full of Marco apologizing and me trying to convince him that he had absolutely nothing to apologize for. He told me that he reacted that way because of how he grew up. He repeated over and over how it made no sense because didn’t he hate being treated roughly? I knew and understood how he felt. Being raised by someone who teaches you that the only way to deal with your anger is to get physically rough is obviously going to stick in yourself conscious. But what I didn’t see was how Marco thought he’d hurt me in any way. Probably the lack of verbal discussion over having sex made him uneasy, but he should have known I liked it. He was rough, but not violent, his hands and movements soft even when tying my hands behind my back, through the frustration was still that carefulness and timid behavior. It was cute, and I eventually got him to stop worrying, actually telling him we could do it again if he so desired and earned myself a freckled blush.

Our weekend of post sex cuddling and sleep was short lived however and the fact that it was now a Monday morning and my alarm clock was waking Marco and I up from our sheet tangled slumber was pissing me off. I opted to feign ass pain so I wouldn’t have to get up, but I was 110% sure that Marco wouldn’t buy that. He’s the obedient one who thinks school is actually important, so he’d make me go. I did not remember this when he moved in, having quite the rude awakening the first morning of school that I woke up to him bustling around the apartment cooking breakfast and doing laundry at 6:00am.

So with a groan I rolled away from the rock sleeper I call my boyfriend and stood out of bed, pulling on a t-shirt and walking into the kitchen. I poured a two glasses of orange juice and grabbed some Tylenol for myself, taking it with a long swig from my glass. When I walked into our room and set Marco’s juice on the table, he was taking advantage of the empty bed and was now sprawled quite adorably across it, the sheets bundled up around his legs and his t-shirt pushed up so his belly button was peeking out just so. I loved when he slept like that, not so much snoring as breathing deeply through his nose. I sat down near his waist and started prodding at his stomach as I sipped my juice, smiling at the way he furrowed his brows. 

“Marco get up, it’s Monday. We gotta get ready for school. I brought you juice.”

“Ugh…Thank you.”

He blinked his eyes open and rolled over onto his stomach, reaching out slowly with his hand to grab his cup. I couldn’t help but think how cute he was like this, and I was happy that this is how he’d been practically the whole weekend. 

We took our time getting ready, seeing as how we had an hour to get ready and we both took showers at night. We liked having the time to actually wake up and eat breakfast, usually made by Marco, so we weren’t dead on our feet when we walked to school. Marco made pancakes that day, and I’m pretty sure I ate about ten of them, because he made them from scratch and they were so delicious I almost clung to his leg and worshiped him. After we ate we decided that it was an okay time to leave, so we slung out bags over our shoulders and left the apartment, locking the door behind us. 

It was kind of cold, and I clung to Marco’s side like a leech trying to steal warmth from him, my scarf pulled over my mouth much like that girl Mikasa does all the time. I told him every time we went outside that he should just become a heater and cling to me all the time because my scrawny ass is too cold, and every time he just laughs and pulls me closer, effectively making me blush and feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. On this particular day though, I felt certain uneasiness, and it pissed me off that I didn’t know why. I just felt anxious. Extremely so. 

We were already at the school when I started noticing it, tightening my grip on Marco’s hand. Everyone was staring at us, and not in the petty ‘look-at-the-gay-couple’ way. Like they were expecting something actually, and I was almost sure that Marco noticed too because he looked down at me, his eyes a tiny bit darker than before, his pupils shot. It was a bad day and we knew it. But, nothing to do but keep walking like nothing is happening, trudging to our lockers as per usual. 

I didn’t want to come to school out of hatred for how boring it was but now I was thinking it was for a totally different reason, rummaging through Marco and I’s shared locker with clammy hands. He was standing next to me with an extreme purpose about himself, like he was a guard dog standing on his heels, ears perked. The aura in the building and among the school pushed this theory onto us, that something was gonna happen.

“Marco…”

I whispered, so quietly that it was only possible for his ears to pick it up, to which he snapped his eyes to me, the corners of his mouth twitching downwards. I saw the three assholes that beat me up in front of the school standing to our right, opposite of the side of me that Marco was standing. I wanted him to leave to the classroom, hopefully before they saw him because a huge part of me knew that he was an easier target for them therefore that was who they’d want to get to. I tilted my head towards them, his eyes looking quickly up then back to me, the brown irises still overtaken by the pupils.

“Marco, go to class, now.”

“No. It’s fine.”

I was worried. I took this seriously, not only because I knew they could seriously injure one or both of us, but because they could send Marco back into a place that I refused to allow him again. They could destroy him and make him want to hurt himself again and that terrified me, awakening a protective instinct I’d never had before and taking the situation as far as feeling like I was protecting a baby cub. No one could hurt him and I’d be sure of that, which meant taking these guys, who seemed to not want to leave Marco alone for a reason unbeknownst tom me, very seriously.

“Marco, please.”

“You’re here, so it’s fine. They won’t physically do anything if it’s both of us.”

I nodded, realizing that he was right. Right he was too, because they did come over, everyone else’s eyes darting to the scene and stopping what they were doing. Apparently plans of a fight spread like wildfire in crowds of immaturity. Like usual, they smelled like sweat and grease, making me crinkle my face in a comical way when they approached, leaning on the locker in front of me. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the scrawny fag, and his fatass boyfriend. We’ve been lookin’ for you two. If you think you can threaten us to escape a beating, then you faggots are about to think that over.”

I swear the hair on my head and neck stood on end, my hands were fisted so hard that I could feel my nails ready to break skin and I just snapped my head around to Marco, who was now staring at the ground, his eyes bright and sad again. He lost the fire in himself as soon as they said that and it infuriated me. The pieces clicked.

“Marco…are these guys the reason for Friday night?”

He nodded slowly, looking at me sadly, almost ashamed that he allows these douchebags to hurt him that way. I was livid. If there was a word to dig the explanation of my anger deeper, I’d use it. I saw red. It wasn’t even human how fast I lunged at his throat, my hands harshly gripping his skin as I wrestled him to the ground, screaming at him all the different times he could go fuck himself and what a piece of shit he was. I don’t think Marco did anything, just stood there and watched, internally smirking. 

How dare they hurt Marco? How dare they gather the fucking audacity to claw into his heart and hurt him that way? I removed one hand from his neck, still hard pressed on his Adam’s apple with the other, and gripped his grimy hair, slamming the back of his head into the tile with sickening thuds. I hoped he’d pass out, I hoped he bled. Fuck, I was so pissed off that I would feel absolutely nothing if this asshole died right underneath me. His friends weren’t helping; the pussies just stood in shock and yelled, stammering their words. They didn’t scare me, and even if they normally would have, I wouldn’t have cared at that moment. 

I guess I’d been taking it a bit too far, because Marco’s calls filtered slowly into my hearing, which I’d realized had been zoned completely out until that moment. His arms were hooked underneath mine and he was yelling, almost frantically, that if I didn’t stop I’d kill him. Teachers were already running towards us and picking that asshole up off the ground and it just made me angrier.

“Fuck with Marco again and I’ll make sure you can’t get up next time asshole! Fuck you!”

“Jean! Calm down, please, just stop, its okay!”

I looked up at Marco who was currently clinging me to himself, trying to keep me restrained until the three guys had been escorted somewhere else by the horde of teachers. Once again the person who was actually at fault was getting treated like the victim, even though he kind of was at that particular moment. I knew that they wouldn’t listen to me though. 

The crowd of spectators was also shooed away, and I already knew that everyone would be talking about this for days. “Jean Kirschtein, the quiet social recluse had beat the living shit out of one of the biggest guys in the school, all for his boyfriend.” It wasn’t like the story was bad or against me, but the reason behind the fight was personal, and I really hoped that people wouldn’t start making stuff up. We didn’t need that right now. I’d probably scared Marco or made him worry, something along those lines, most likely.  
The vice principle, Ms. Ral, was actually really nice when she pulled me aside and had me follow her to her office. Marco came too, and I received a skeptical face with that one, but she let it slide. We sat in the chairs on the other side of the desk and she basically just asked for my name and school ID number so she could look me up in the system. I knew what was coming. She was nice but she still had to do her job and now that I’d come down from my rage filled high, I solemnly agreed to the three days suspension. It wasn’t like I did my work anyway.

We left the office and Marco’s hand went instantly to mine, intertwining our fingers instantly. I knew how much he needed to hold my hand in public, the physical contact soothing to him in the middle of a place where he felt that all eyes were begrudgingly on him. In this instance he wasn’t particularly wrong, seeing as how he was with the person who’d just been the instigator of a fight, so I understood the desperateness of his grip. 

“Hey, it’s fine. If anyone fucks with you I’ll do it all over again. You’re the most important thing in my life, so a few days suspension is worth it if you’re safe.” 

“O-okay . . . Thank you Jean. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, let’s go to class, because I wanna go home and the longer we dawdle around here the longer the day will seem.”

The day, much to our dissatisfaction, ended up going incredibly slow. When the end bell DID ring, I practically threw our unneeded things into the locker and dragged Marco out of the school. He seemed happy today, smiling the whole way home and had his arm draped securely around my waist as we walked.

“Hey what’s got you so happy?”

“I’m just happy that I have someone to stand up for me now. It feels . . . really nice.”

I nodded and smiled at him, wiggling closer into his touch to escape the cold. I knew that we both stuck up for each other now, and it did indeed feel very good. I had someone to protect and that gave me intense purpose, which I assumed he felt also. 

When we got home, I made us hot chocolate and started a movie. Marco picked Spirited Away to which I enthusiastically agreed, and we sat on the couch cuddling under the biggest comforter I had in the apartment while we sipped our drinks. It wasn’t until around 7:00 that we both got hungry and ordered Chinese takeout, which Marco thankfully ate a shit ton of, most of his meal comprising of eggrolls. 

Once we finished eating we cleaned the living room and kitchen and washed all the dishes along with two loads of laundry. I still don’t know what came over us. I guess we just got into the swing of things and figured we’d may as well do everything. It landed us in pure exhaustion, and while I obviously wouldn’t be going to school tomorrow, Marco did have to, so we decided to go to bed. Sleeping with Marco was extremely pleasant, especially since it was winter and his bare chest gave off very comforting warmth. I always slept tucked into his arms, my head under his chin and our legs tangled underneath a mound of covers. I always kissed him numerous times and we’d whisper ‘I love you’ back and forth until we were too tired to move our mouths anymore. It was peaceful and perfect.

Marco’s POV:

I’ve become much better at hiding things from Jean. It hurts me to say it, but I don’t think that I’ll ever have nothing to hide. The fight that day didn’t phase me at all, actually. If we’re being honest, the fact that I’d need to endure three days of school without him, that’s what was making my mind fall apart. How could I make it through those days? Seven hours without Jean? Around people who hate me and probably want to use me as a target to get back at Jean? I couldn’t do this. I knew if I went I’d lose it, fall apart, shut down. Everything Jean and I have worked on to fix will fall right through my fingertips because if I’m alone and my mind begins to wander I think about everything I used to be and it scares me. I don’t want to go back to feeling that empty.

But they force it. They say these hurtful things and I’ve felt like they’re true for so long that it doesn’t matter if I’ve recently been able to tell myself they’re not. I knew I couldn’t let Jean know because he’d do one of two things; demand to go to school, which would get him in more trouble, or demand that I stay home, which would get me in trouble. All of my teachers knew that Jean and I were together and if I missed these three days they would know it was because I was with him. I couldn’t let him know what I was thinking, not this time. 

Of course, when the next day rolled around, he still woke up and had breakfast with me and got ready for the day right alongside me. He promised that he’d stay awake until I got home, and when I was ready to leave he gave me a sufficient amount of kisses to hold me over. I’d miss him, and he at least knew that much. But he really didn’t know the half of it. I trembled intensely the whole way there, extremely terrified that they’d jump me or something. They’d stoop so low as to do that, so I was weary.

I made it to school okay despite the impending doom that I was sure was around every corner. I felt isolated and retreated deeper into myself as the day went on. I didn’t want to speak with anyone or look at anyone. I just wanted to go home to Jean and eat something and cuddle with him on the couch. I didn’t want to be here at all, by any means. I lacked the social grace to even be allowed in a place like this. 

The day was going by fine, by others’ standards. I knew that I shouldn’t worry as much, but I found myself wandering back into my old ways, sweatshirt sleeves pulled over my hand and my hood covering most of my head. I wasn’t looking forward to gym, because changing made me uncomfortable even more so than before and now that I knew those guys were in the class with me, I was terrified.

However, the class came anyways, rearing its ugly head at me and while I stood in the locker room I could literally feel their presence when they started walking over to me. I knew it would happen, so it’s not like I was startled and confused as to why they were doing it. I was easy, completely vulnerable and alone, prey. They knew Jean wasn’t here to stand up to them, and I sure as hell wouldn’t unless it was for Jean. I never protected myself because I didn’t see the worth in it. Maybe one day I could completely find my self worth and be able to stick up for myself, but that wasn’t this day, nor anytime soon. 

I had already removed my sweatshirt and was now only in my t-shirt and sweatpants, standing with my head hung, almost inside of my locker. They were standing behind me, I could tell.

“I see your stupid boyfriend isn’t here today. You’ve been alone all day huh? Poor baby can’t function without his cock sucking boyfriend.”

I sighed, turning around and staring at them as emptily as I could. I figured, as childish and untrue as it was, if I didn’t show them that it got to me, they’d leave me alone. It was a fruitless battle to say the least, and I’m sure if Jean were there when he reached out and GRABBED my arm, his hand would have been violently ripped off by his teeth. But he wasn’t there, so my arm was being held up, littered with white lines from past mistakes, right in front of his face. He inspected it with a smirk and showed his friends, both who laughed. 

“It looks like you’re an emo bitch huh? You and your faggot boyfriend like to sit and cry with each other? Maybe you should kill yourself, seeing as how no one except him fucking likes you. He’ll probably do it with you, why don’t you just ask? Though someone worthless like you isn’t worth dying for, he’d be such a dumbass to do that right?”

It hurt to breathe all of a sudden, and I really did want to cry, but nothing would come out. How cruel. It didn’t even feel like I was awake. Was I dreaming? Was I really being told how worthless I was? I’d never been told by someone . . . I just thought it about myself. But there, standing there being told these things with such a spiteful and hateful tone, I finally realized how true it must be. I’d always had a smidgen of doubt. ‘I only think this, so maybe it’s not true.’ No. Not anymore. It is true. 

I didn’t wait for them to finish. I quickly shoved everything in my bag and didn’t even bother to put my sweatshirt back on. They laughed mockingly as I ran out of the room, tears threatening my eyes but not actually pouring out just yet. I couldn’t. I had to get home to Jean before my mind ravaged me like last time. If I didn’t see him right then I would spiral again. I didn’t want this. No one was supposed to find out. I’d stopped cutting weeks ago, no fresh cuts anywhere to be seen. It was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? I’d quit almost cold turkey.

But no, I wanted it. At that moment I wanted to do it. I wanted to cut deeply, watch entranced as the blood flowed steadily, but slowly, down to the tile and splattered with each drip, tantalizingly red against white. I burned for it, ached, cried, yearned to feel the blade against my skin. The empty feeling came back as I ran, almost there, so close to him. He could save me from these thoughts just by seeing his face. Almost there.

It was like my lungs were being crushed. I wanted to fall into bed and never get up. Normal people wouldn’t be this destroyed by this kind of thing but I’m not normal. I’m trash and I got reminded today. I was really happy that I had a key because the door was locked and I couldn’t wait for Jean to get to the door. It slammed against the back wall when I opened it, the hallway dark and the whole place silent so the bang echoed almost painfully. 

He wasn’t home. I don’t normally curse but the resounding, sob filled ‘FUCK’ that I let slip was nothing to be toyed with. I couldn’t be alone. I felt immediately smothered by everything, and the trip to the bathroom felt short. I didn’t even remember walking there. All I knew was that I really missed the feeling of a razor between my fingers and the way it glinted in the harsh lights. How beautiful. Unlike me.

Jean’s POV:

I was already 100% sure I was going to hate these three days. I was so bored. All I did was watch movies and eat, all boring as shit without Marco. He’d be at school until three so when I looked in our fridge and pantry, noticing we were pretty much completely out of actual food, I decided I may as well go grocery shopping. The Publix was only a twenty minute walk and if I brought my duffle bag to carry back most of the groceries in, it wouldn’t be too touch. 

It was still cold out, even though it was around 11:30 and the sun was as bright as ever, so I stole one of Marco’s sweatshirts, smiling at how big it was on me. If there was anything I loved about living with Marco besides Marco himself, it was wearing his clothes. The fact that his t-shirts were around mid thigh on me was something that I found fucking adorable, and so did he, always hugging me close and kissing my face when I came out of the shower in boxers and one of his larger shirts.

I had effectively made it to the store, dumped anything and everything I thought we’d end up eating within the next month, and hauled it back to the apartment. It was lovely trying to get down the hallways, everyone who was there staring at me like I was hauling a dead body. I got to my apartment and immediately froze, my eyes fixed on the open door leading into a dark apartment. No one should be here, and he’d locked the door before he left. Either someone broke in, which was unlikely seeing as how many people were wandering around, or Marco was home early for some reason. 

I hoped it was the second option, because that meant my boredom was gone and no one was about to kill me when I walked in. But also . . . Marco being home meant something had happened. He wouldn’t just come home for any random reason. I became instantly worried, praying that if he was home, everything was okay. Please just let everything be okay.

I didn’t even take care when I put the bags down, slamming the door shut with my foot and wandering into our bedroom. No Marco. The living room held no freckled boy either. But then it hit me like a ton of bricks. The bathroom light was on. It was on and there was someone in there, I could just tell. I could tell something was wrong because upon second glance, his shoes weren’t out in the living room, and his bag and sweatshirt were thrown haphazardly on the floor, some books spilling from inside. He’d rushed in and into the bathroom, not taking the time to remove his shoes, and that fucking alarmed me. Something. Wasn’t. Right.

“Marco? Are you here?”

Nothing. I could hear him in there, sitting on the floor and shifting his weight. I tested the door. Locked. I cursed myself. I knew that something happened at that point, all the signs were there, and I wasn’t at fucking home when he needed me. He came home and needed me and I wasn’t here. I banged on the door repeatedly, begging him to open it. I needed to be sure he was okay. 

“Marco! Open the door or I’m breaking it down! Marco, please! I’m sorry I wasn’t here but please open the door, I’m scared!”

I suddenly remembered, though, that I had little keys for all of the rooms inside the apartment. No need to break the door down, I just needed to find those keys. I was sure they were all hidden above the doors, on the door frame. I traced the top ledge with my fingertips, collecting dust and paint chips, and finally found the tiny metal rod, flattened at the end. It took a few tries but I finally found the fitting in the knob where it would unlock the door and pushed, twisting it. A resound little click was music to my ears, and I sighed with relief.

Relief did not last. I thought I could at least stop Marco before he did anything drastic, but I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong that it sickened me. He was sitting on the floor, back against the tub, with his arms on his knees, watching lifelessly as blood poured HEAVILY from his arm. He didn’t even look like he was in pain, just empty. I couldn’t move, I was so shocked. I thought he’d given it up, stopped cutting. I thought he was better . . . at least better enough. 

But no, he was so fucking not. It was terrifying to say the least. Sure I’d seen the sort of fresh cuts and I’ve seen all the other stuff that he does, but I’ve never seen him ACTUALLY cutting. It was like watching someone die, only it’s JUST their emotions that die. Right in front of you, the person you love most lost their emotions and died because no one can withstand cutting that deeply and that many times unless it’s because you’ve literally become void. Something happened and I knew it, but I also knew that he probably wasn’t going to tell me.

“M-Marco . . . Marco why would you . . . What happened? Who made you do this?”

He didn’t answer, just stared down at his wrist and the blade and brought it back up to the skin, his face still unchanging. It felt like he didn’t even know I was there. It made me want to throw up honestly, watching the razor cut through the clean area of skin, gliding across followed by a line of crimson that made its way down his arm and dripped onto the floor. It was silent in reality but in my head it sounded like waves. Waves of torment and sadness splashing onto my bathroom floor. I knelt between his legs, pulling the razor from his hand and gripping his wrists, careful not to touch the cuts. I didn’t care about the blood that was on my hands or that was dripping onto my jeans. I cared about getting that look in his eyes to go away.

“Marco stop! Please, look at me, REALLY look at me, please! What happened Marco!? You were doing so well and . . . and . . .”

I felt myself crying, bawling actually. I was trembling and sobbing and I kept trying so hard to get him to look at me. I knew he must have felt so ashamed and empty, and whatever happened to trigger this was something that he desperately needed me for and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there and I was sure that’s why I was so upset. 

“Marco why would you do this . . .”

“Are you done?”

My eyes hurt, they were so wide. I stared at him and he was so cold. His gaze was fixed on my eyes and no matter how many times I blinked, the chill and uncaring nature of that stare wouldn’t go away. It was hurtful and scary, because for the third time I thought I’d lost him. I really thought it that time. His arms were limp in my hands and he was just staring. It actually . . . made me kind of angry. I was sick of him getting made because I care about his well being and I was sick of him acting like I had no right to worry. 

“No, no I’m not ‘done’ Marco. What the fuck was that!? Am I done? Why would you even say that!? I have the fucking right to worry about my goddamn boyfriend whom I live with and share a life with. I have that right and I’ve had it since you walked into the apartment. How can you sit here and act like I have no right? Do you even know how fucking shitty I feel after realizing that this could have been avoided if I’d been here for you? I wasn’t! I feel like SHIT about that. If you have an issue with me CARING about you and not wanting you to HURT yourself or fucking DIE, then maybe you shouldn’t be living here!”

I gasped at what had just left my mouth. I didn’t mean that. No, I didn’t mean it. When he tried to get up I wouldn’t let him. I climbed into his lap and wrapped around him, burying my face in his shoulder. I couldn’t believe I’d yelled at him that way. He was fragile and I knew that from the beginning and I’d mentally prepared myself to deal with this stuff. I knew it was coming. I signed up for this.

“I’m sorry Marco . . . I didn’t mean that . . . Not at all . . . Just don’t leave.”

I felt him soften in my arms, a nasal sigh interrupting the silence. I could tell that he’d at least left the mental void he’d been in and was still calm. He just hugged me back. We both took a deep breath and just hugged each other on the floor. I knew that I should probably bandage his arm, but this was a tiny bit more important. His mental state was more important and if sitting in blood and hugging him was what it would take to help, I was all for it. 

Eventually he pulled back a bit and looked at me, then down at his arm, and I instantly understood. He stayed on the floor while I crawled over and got the first aid from under the sink, pulling out the gauze and medical tape, along with some disinfectant. He winced when I bandaged him, but nothing more than a twitch. Once that was done, I cleaned the floor and helped him up and into the bedroom, where we both changed in silence. He decided to lay down and I told him that I was going to put the groceries away before they spoiled, and that I’d be back.

When I did come back, he was laying in bed with the covers bunched up in front of him, cuddled around them and staring blankly ahead. I knew how he was probably feeling and it hurt me so much. I just wanted him to be happy and those assholes, who I’d come to the conclusion about it being their fault, were just so determined to fuck his life up even more. I simply pulled the blanket from his arms and wiggled into its place, pulling it over the both of us. His grip on me tightened and when I looked up at his face, he had ‘I’m so sorry’ written all over his featured. I opted to just lean up and kiss his cheeks, stroking them softly with my thumbs. 

“Are you okay now? I’m sorry I yelled at you . . .”

“Yes . . . I just . . . feel very tired. I don’t want to go back tomorrow.”

“Then don’t. It’s okay.”

He nodded, and I snuggled into him further, reaching my arm up to play with his hair.

“You should go to a teacher or something and get some help in getting those assholes to leave you alone . . .”

“Hm . . . Maybe . . .”

“Okay . . . Go to sleep, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

I was soon serenaded with the deep, soft breathing of a sleeping Marco, and I was proud to say that we were on good terms as of then. Those kinds of incidents never counted as real fights, the emotional stress of the situation always too much to think rationally in. I did worry now, because he was alone in that class with them every day. But that was a different bridge to cross for another day. That day, we just slept off the trauma of the events that took place. I just hoped that he would be okay. I wanted to fix him, but there’s only so much one person can do.


	12. Your body is a temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happily there are no trigger warnings for this chapter! Just smut at the end. SMUT YAY NO ANGST <3 You're welcome.   
> Thanks for being so patient with me guys, it means a lot.

I wasn’t particularly fond of missing school. I realize that I’ve repeated my disdain for it numerous times, but having to make up three days of work would be hell. However, the fact that Marco was gonna be home with me for two of them made the impending workload a bit more bearable. The circumstances for his absence, not so much, but nonetheless, he’d be home safe with me. When we woke up that sunny and obnoxiously beautiful Wednesday, he looked well rested but still looming in the dark cloud that he’d endured last night. He smiled at me when I opened my eyes and saw him staring at me. But I can read those chocolaty brown eyes much better than he gives me credit for. I knew eventually I’d have to sit down with him and try to get him to talk to me, but for now, the cute freckled face in front of me, still groggy with sleep, was too adorable to distort with demons. I found my lips and throat dry when I spoke, my words coming out mumbled and raspy.

“Mm, good morning Marco.”

“Did you sleep well?”

I nodded, scooting closer to absorb his warmth and burying my face in his chest. His breathing and heartbeat was music to my ears. It only reminded me that he was alive, okay, still warm. 

“What about you? Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, I feel . . . really good actually. Can we go do something today? I think getting out of the apartment to do something that isn’t school might be good for the both of us.”  
“Hmm, yeah, that’s true. What sounds fun to you?”

I thought for a moment before it hit me. It had started to snow last night. I remembered because I had gotten up to get a drink, and there was snow piled up on the window sill in the living room. If not for Marco, I’d be especially cold, actually. It was early for snow, only being November, but I thought maybe the lake in the huge park past the city would be frozen. It had been below 45 degrees for about two weeks now, so there was a possibility. It wouldn’t hurt to check, and even if it wasn’t, there was a lot to do on that side of the city. 

I hummed to myself for a moment before rolling over on top of him to kiss his nose.

“Let’s go ice skating. You can ice skate, right?”

“Ehh, no. I can inline skate . . . is it that much different?”

I chuckled a bit, leaning down to kiss his jaw line. 

“Yes, for me at least. It’s not too hard to pick up on though, if you’ve got enough coordination. It’ll be fun! I just hope the lake is actually frozen enough.”

He looked skeptical but I simple leaned forward and kissed his nose, sitting up to slide out of bed and grab a change of clothes. I picked up my black jeans that had been haphazardly thrown to the floor and a long sleeved grey thermal. I wanted a shower, badly, because basically smelling like shit wasn’t gonna score me well on the date meter. Even the nicest of people couldn’t put up with others who stunk, and I was sure I didn’t smell too good. I looked over my shoulder as I dug a towel out of the closet in the hall, getting a perfect view of Marco still rolling around in bed trying to wake himself up. God damn if he’s not the cutest boy on Earth then someone just shoot me dead for being wrong. I wanted to ask him to shower with me, but god forbid I see him naked and my mind start wandering. That would lead to things that weren’t mean t for a sleepy couple. Maybe another time. 

It felt really good to stand in hot water, seeing as how our apartment was frigid, and as I started to scrub the grease out of my hair, my mind wandered to the weirdest thing. I thought about my parents and Marco’s father. His dad hadn’t even tried to find him or contact the school in any way, at least that we were aware of. I’d also guessed that Marco scared my parents enough for them to get the idea, but they continued paying the bills plus some. They even sent extra spending money, with which I upgraded my phone and have been able to take Marco out on a few nice dates. All in all It was great having neither of our parents in our lives, but I wish the overwhelming sense of foreboding would go away. Honestly, with Marco, I always felt like something was going to happen. I didn’t want to feel that way, because he doesn’t deserve any bullshit and it’s never his fault, but something always happens. I wondered frequently when the time would come when Marco would be healthy and we could live peacefully.

My thorough thinking came to an end though when the water started to lose its intense heat. I definitely didn’t want to be showered with cold water. So I turned the water off and quickly wrapped my towel around my shoulders, shielding my skin from the cool air that hit me when I whipped back the shower curtain. Once I dried, I got dressed and grabbed a smaller towel from below the sink, rubbing it back and forth on my head a few times to dry it. I combed it to remove knots, but ruffled it just a bit anyways. 

When I left the bathroom, Marco was still in bed. The nerve, I swear. Here I was up and about, ready to go on a fun date and he’s lying in bed like a loaf. I’d never expect it from him, but considering the night he’d had, I let it slip big time. Instead of being an ass like I’d normally do, I rolled into bed next to him and curled up to his warmth. I understood why he stayed in bed. 

“Marco, gotta get up. We’re going on a date remember? Get up.”

He groaned loudly, rolling until he was lying on top of me and rested his face in the crook of my neck. His breath gave me goose bumps, brushing against the really sensitive spot beneath my ear where my jawbone cornered. He was becoming difficult, and the only way to wake a dead-to-the-world Marco was with the promise of coffee shop lattes. Not homemade stuff, actual coffee from baristas and freshly ground beans. I didn’t treat him to it often out of need for a bribe in these situations.

“Marcooo, if you get up, we’ll go get a pumpkin cinnamon latte with caramel.”

“Showering now.”

Got him. He kissed my neck before rolling off of me and wobbling into the bathroom to start the shower. I listened and waited for him to finish, eyeballing him hungrily when he walked in only clad in a white towel slung loosely around his waist. God, how I love those hip bones. He chose black jeans too, pairing them with a long sleeved dark green shirt. Since it was snowing, we both wore boots with thick socks. Marco pulled on a sweatshirt, then a jacket. It was one of those really nice ones, thick, made of fleece, and padded with thicker fleece on the inside. I myself chose a sweater with Marco’s black jacket over it. We also wore gloves and beanies, mine yellow and his grey. We looked . . . not very attractive.

“Oh my god we look like snow men . . .”

“Yeah Jean, with your frosty tips you look very wintery.”

“Jesus Marco . . .” 

His jokes sucked but not any less than mine did. I grabbed my wallet and keys from the counter and slung my ice skates over my shoulder, holding the door open for Marco, who had borrowed an older pair of my skates, and locking it behind us. Once we got outside I was hit instantly by the chill, wishing I’d worn a scarf to cover my face. As per usual, I huddled closer to Marco, leaning my cheek against his arm. The walk to the bus stop was short, and it arrived right when we did. It was like heaven on that stupid bus, because there was a heater and I could cling to Marco even more now that we were sitting. 

It took us about an hour to ride all the way out to the area that the lake was at, and I could already tell that it was frozen. There were a few little kids ice skating on the surface, the parents watching from the side drinking hot chocolate. I myself was excited, missing the feeling of gliding across the ice. Though, I had to admit, I was also a bit excited to see Marco attempt to ice skate. 

We got off the bus and walked across the road to sit on a bench, pulling off our boots and unlacing the skates, sliding them on and tying them tight. It took a few tries to get Marco over to the ice, the blades admittedly difficult to balance on while walking. I smiled as I glided right out onto the ice, doing a couple experimental turns and circles to be sure I was really still as good as I used to be. A bit rusty, but I’d get it again soon. Marco however looked skeptical, standing in the snowy bank, staring at me with a look that said ‘there’s just no fucking way’. I wasn’t having that though.

I skated back over, grabbing his hand, and led him out, grinning when he slid next to me, not falling or even stumbling. 

“See, not that hard, you got this.”

He nodded, wiggling his hand out of mine. He actually picked up on it fast, following me around with a hint of caution. He eventually hooked his thumb into the belt loop of my jeans, using it for balance, and was skating laps around the lake with me. It was fun, really fun. The wind in our faces bit harshly at our noses, but it was okay because frequent nose kisses helped. At one point, Marco wanted to see me skate by myself, so he plopped down on the bank, wincing when the snow soaked through his pants. It was fun to be able to do figure eights again, turning sharply in little circles and jumping every now and then. I missed doing it, and I definitely expected many more trips here during the winter months.

Eventually though, Marco called out to me, a look on his face that was practically begging to get somewhere warm. I happily agreed, skating over to him and pulling him up off the ground. I did promise him that coffee, and there was a Starbucks right across the street. 

We’d spent about two hours in that coffee shop, seated smugly in the corner booth pressed up to each other with our coffees. When 4:00 rolled around though, it was time to head to the bus stop, which I was reluctant to accept. I didn’t want our date to end, even though we were going home together. It was just too cold to continue being out.   
Once we’d gotten back to the apartment, we shed our ridiculous apparel, opting to simply leave it by the door in a wet heap. We were left in out long sleeved shirts and boxers. I also picked Marco’s jacket back up and put it on, snuggling my face into the sleeves and inhaling, his sweet scent still lingering. I turned to him and sleepily nodded towards the couch, suggesting a movie night, and he agreed, tucking me under some covers while he left to make hot chocolate. I picked another Studio Ghibli movie, this time Castle in the Sky, and smiled when Marco handed me my mug and settled in next to me. It was comfortable, and I fell asleep maybe 30 minutes into the movie. Marco moved me into bed, where he stayed, and we both fell asleep for good that night, waking up at around 7:00 the next day. 

Thursday was filled with little note, both of us laying in bed and talking about virtually nothing all day. It was bland and tasteless except for sweet Marco kissing me and cuddling me through our numerous naps. We were mentally preparing for our return to school the next day, knowing that we’d have to face the annoyance of makeup work. 

This day snuck up quickly, rearing its hideous ass face as I slapped around the table for the snooze button at 6:00am. I went through my usual routine, albeit half assed, and ended up shoving cereal down my gob at around 6:45. We were late. I didn’t care.

Marco looked just as dead as me, regardless of the fact that we literally slept all day and night, and his sleepy face made me want to crawl back into bed with him and snuggle him like a teddy bear. But alas, stupid fucking school had to be today. At least it was Friday, and it was only one day before the glorious weekend was here again.  
So, we trudged off to school, backpacks in tow, to face the day and all of the angry teachers that came with it. At least we had art first, which was good, because I couldn’t find it in myself to give a rat’s ass about ANYTHING at that point. I was thoroughly done, and we hadn’t even started class yet. I was still grumbling to myself as the bell rang, the teacher walking in and greeting us promptly. I’d felt my bad moos dissipate a bit though when she said we’d be getting our inspiration paintings back today. I’d finally get to see Marco’s finished, and that excited me more than anything.

He got his back before me, his last name being first on the roster, but when I tried to look he swatted my hand away and told me that we’d trade. Mine didn’t necessarily suck, but it probably wasn’t as good as his by far. 

“Jean Kirschtein. Congratulations, you and Marco have the two highest scores on your project.”

Okay so, apparently it was as good as Marco’s, at least to the teacher. Well, who was I to complain? I walked up to the front of the classroom and took my paper, staring down at it and noticing that it looked better than I’d remembered. I smiled, holding the front to my chest and walking back to my seat. Once the teacher started talking, I put my paper on the desk face down and slid it carefully over to Marco, who did the same, and immediately I felt my heart race. What if he didn’t like it? How was mine supposed to compete with his.

I couldn’t take the wait and flipped his over, audibly gasping. I was surprised that no one turned to stare at me for being so loud. I couldn’t even stop myself from breaking into a huge grin, the corner of my mouth in pain from being stretched so far. I was so happy. If I’d thought it was beautiful before, with its perfectly sketched lines and immaculate shading, I couldn’t even believe what it looked like now. He’d impersonated the shading to the tee with watercolors, using highlight colors I’d never think to use, such as greens and pinks and yellows. He’d added to it, now instead of just my face, the upper part of my torso and arms were drawn, a pile of bright blue flower petals in my hands, a few floating down away from me. It was incredible. I looked serene in the picture, my face with an expression of longing but content at the same time. I stared at it for what felt like forever.

I finally tore my eyes from his painting to look over at him, trying to read his reaction to my own painting. I’d chosen to use watercolors as well, but with heavier pigmentation than Marco used, the colors not as transparent. I worked feverishly on it, sketching carefully and painstakingly slow, trying to get the curve of his jaw right, the shine in his hair, each perfect little freckle. It took forever, but I’d finished. I’d painted him, just him, standing with his arms outstretched, from a side profile. Though, past his elbows, there were hundreds of small red butterflies landed on his arms, his palms turned upwards as he looked down at them with a fond smile, the one he’d given me on numerous occasions that made my heart melt. He was in all white, like an angel, making his inky hair and deep brown eyes burst from the page. When I looked at him, he looked so happy I could barely breathe. It was like joy bubbled up through my being, making me ache to kiss him.

As silly as it sounds, that moment made me crave Marco. It made me want to hold him close and feel him, let him have my mind, body, and soul. I inspired him, and he inspired me. Who better to give yourself to than a person who worships every inch of you and your soul as if you were a temple of God? I knew what I wanted at that point, and it flooded my mind, deeming me completely unfocused for the rest of the day. It crawled by, agonizingly slow and the two classes I had away from Marco made me hurt. But, when the final bell rang I thanked whatever God there was out there, because I was so anxious to get home. 

When he met me out front, I didn’t hesitate to leap into his arms, kissing him deeply, holding that beautiful face between my hands. I kissed him feverishly, demanding, lovingly, needing. I absolutely, without a doubt, needed him. I pulled away, face flushed and eyes already lidded and stared at him, a thin line of saliva still connecting our lips.

“Marco, I need you, now. Get me home and make love to me, please Marco.”

I guess that was all he needed, because it took about .3 seconds for him to grab my wrist and start walking, all the while his face completely flushed, more so than mine. It took us ten minutes to get home, record time, and we ran down the hallway to the apartment, fumbling with keys and only getting a quick strained ‘hello’ to Christa before barging in and slamming the door. We peeled off out jackets and numerous layers on the way to the bedroom, tossing them carelessly all around the foyer and living room.

Once in the bedroom, he was on me, kissing me sloppily and wanting, leaning down to pick me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me to bed, lying me down softly and climbing on top of me to begin kissing along my jaw and nibble on my ear. I was already losing the ability to breathe steadily, wrapped around him like saran wrap. I wanted to get rid of my clothes, of his clothes, to be completely skin to skin. I needed it. I was already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt when he’d moved to my neck, sucking hard and no doubted leaving his mark on numerous places. But I wasn’t complaining, it felt too good. 

Soon I’d removed his shirt, moving my hands all over his chest and stomach, my fingers splaying over his perfect hips. I wanted more. I began undoing his belt, trying to simultaneously pull him closer. His knee was tucked firmly between my legs and I was already hard, rolling against his thigh and breathily moaning. I was so ready and it was almost painful to have my clothes on. I could hear him breathing as he nibbling on my ear lobe, finally moving his hands under my shirt to pull it off, only breaking away from my ear to pull the clothing over my head and toss it aside. I made sure to pull his chest flush against mine, the feeling of his bare skin alone enough to make my cock twitch with anticipation. 

“Marco, more, please . . .”

He complied. Oh, how he complied, kissing hastily down my neck to my collarbones, making his way to my nipples which he’d discovered long ago were incredibly sensitive, and took one into his mouth, flicking his tongue across it as he held it between his teeth. His hands roamed my stomach for only a moment before taking off my belt and pants, leaving me in only boxers. I was still rolling against his leg, dry humping him like a needy bitch. I literally had no pride when it came to Marco, simply needing him inside of me, filling me. I needed it more than I needed anything else at the moment. 

He finally kissed lower, having milked all the whines and moans from me that he needed by playing with my nipples. When he reached the elastic of my boxers, he took it between his teeth, staring straight up at me as he pulled them lower and lower until my cock was freed and I gave a whine of appreciation. He licked and nipped at my hips, leaving hot trails along my hip bones before licking his way up the shaft of my cock, tonguing the slit with hungry eyes. My head tossed back into the pillow as I moaned loudly, my hands reaching down to greedily tangle my fingers in midnight hair. It took all of my will power not to ram into his throat.

My begs were airy and barely audible by now, my back arching as he took my entire length into his mouth, using his tongue to lick up the vein as he pulled away. I needed more. 

“M-Marco, fuck me, please, fuck me now Marco I need it . . . I need you inside of me.”

“Mmm, Jean, I love when you beg this way. So cute . . .”

That was it. I couldn’t wait anymore, and I literally moaned with relief when he finally brought his fingers to my mouth. I sucked them greedily, staring straight into his eyes as I held his wrist, sucking and licking like I was eating candy. He eventually pulled them out with a lewd pop and spread my legs, staring down at me hungrily. I winced a bit when he pressed his first finger inside, throwing my hand over my face to stifle my whimpers. It was uncomfortable, but only for a moment. Once he started moving it, thrusting in and out, quickly finding my sweet spot. He had gotten up to three fingers, and I was a moaning, sweaty, blushing mess beneath him, and it was only about to get better.

He pulled his fingers out and lined himself up, his eyes raking up my body. Oh how he wanted me, I could tell. He began pressing inside, both of us groaning at the tight fit. I wished I could tell him to just pound me right into the mattress, but that would end up hurting more than it would feel good, so I waited, pressing my hips down further to take him all the way in. It took me all of ten seconds to realize that I just really fucking wanted more.

“Move Marco, fuck . . .”

He gripped my waist, his warm hands sending shivers up my spine, and pulled out almost all the way. The way he snapped his hips forward and slammed back into me made me see white, his cock hitting right into my sweet spot. I was reduced to even more of a panting sweaty mess within seconds, gripping the sheets with white knuckles as he fucked me raw. I reached up to pull him close, wrapping my legs around his waist and pressing my feet into the small of his back, urging him to move faster. It was so good. My head lolled to the side, completely flushed and sweaty, my hair sticking to my face, and my moans were breathless, coming out more like heavy pants and whines. 

“S-so close, touch me, M-Marco, gonna cum, please . . .”

He didn’t hesitate, reaching between us to wrap his long fingers around my throbbing cock and began to pump in time with his erratic but deep thrusts. It sent me over the edge almost immediately, a long stream of Marco’s name coming in whines from my lips as I came hard all over his hand and stomach. I felt myself tighten around him, leaving him moaning deeply into the crook of my shoulder as he came inside of me, filling me with pleasurable warmth. 

Our breathing was heavy, the sweat making our skin stick together and the hair plaster to our foreheads. Once he pulled out and collapsed next to me, I latched back onto him, cuddling into his chest despite how sweaty it was. I looked up at him and brushed the hair from his forehead, kissing him lazily. It felt good, and it felt right.

Eventually we got sick of being sweaty and sticky, so we showered together and helped each other into some warm pajamas. We didn’t even bother trying to watch a movie, just snuggled into the bed and sleepily kissed each other’s faces until we fell asleep. I slept better than I had in a long time, and it helped me to know that there would be many more times like this to come.


	13. Romance and Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit get's all domestic and then Marco emerges from his little shell to the one who forced him to put it up  
> It's all cute and stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't give you smut but I gave you the prelude to some smut so you're welcome?  
> Enjoy loves! Chapter 14 won't take as long as this did.  
> I have a hard time dealing with my depression sometimes and motivation isn't something I'm good at so please be patient and bear with me <3

After me and Marco’s two day week at school, it was thankfully Saturday again. We’d woken up early because Marco kept insisting that he needed to make up the dinner date that went wrong all that time ago. I’d told him that I didn’t even remember about it but that cute little shit kept rolling around in the sheets with me clung in his arms, whining about how he wanted to cook a nice dinner and everything for me. After about an hour and a half of halfhearted bickering, I gave in. It wasn’t like he hasn’t cooked dinner for me a million times, so I didn’t see the harm in letting him say it was for a special occasion. 

We became more and more like a married couple every day. He’d intentionally leave my favorite of his clothing laid out over the chair in the bedroom just so I could wear them to bed, or on lazy days. He’d cook things for me even when I didn’t ask, and sometimes I’d wake up to crepes in bed. He’s literally perfect. Actual freckled Jesus is living with me and let me fucking tell you how great it is. The sex is phenomenal. We have nights where we simply just wanna fuck like animals and that’s what happens, no questions or discussions. But then there’s the nights where the heat builds, and it’s like a slow passionate burst of fireworks and ‘I love you’s are thrown every time our skin touches. 

We’re never uncomfortable about our bodies anymore. Marco let’s me hungrily stare at him whether it be during actual sex or if we’re simply sitting on the couch and I can’t help but let my eyes wander. He’s become more self confident, and that makes me really fucking happy. He eats normally, and there hasn’t been a trigger for that since the restaurant incident. 

Overall, we’re very happy. The whole thing with Marco wanting to make up the date is just adding to his cuteness. I really did appreciate it, but I’m a dork who can’t express jack shit, so I told him he didn’t have to. In reality I kinda wanted to sit down and have a romantic evening with him. I did love him, and it wasn’t like we treated ourselves to this kind of stuff often. 

So, in order to make this evening’s meal, Marco and I had to go grocery shopping because I suck at keeping our pantry filled even though I had been just the other day. Marco is the one that’s good at getting things to make actual meals, while I usually just get a bunch of snacks and random ingredients that are literally good for nothing. Therefore, he needed to go, which I felt kinda bad about. He was making me a nice dinner and shit and had to go with me to buy the stuff. But I’m definitely too incompetent to do it on my own, so I let it slide.

It was around 10:00am that we finally got around to getting out of bed and showering, together mind you, and pulled on our shit ton of layers. It was actually snowing out today, so we needed to be careful not to freeze to death. Though, Marco being the walking furnace he was would’ve probably been fine in a tank top and boxers for all I knew. I wore his jacket again, as we’d mutually agreed that he was never getting it back, and it was never to be washed, lest he have to wear it for days to replace the scent.

I couldn’t help but grumble annoyingly when we stepped outside into the white blanket of jack frost’s ass crack and began walking to the bus stop. Normally, we wouldn’t take the bus. But since it was still snowing out, we opted to take the warmer option. It was only a fifteen minute bus ride anyway, and it gave me an excuse to nuzzle up to Marco instead of tripping us both up when we were walking. 

Once we got to the store, I tried to get in the cart and have Marco push me around, but he was having none of it. Seems as though Marco’s mamma bear comes out at the grocery store, because we weren’t even inside yet and he was already telling me to calm myself. But good grief, just because I liked hopping the white lines on the cross walk didn’t mean he needed to get all strict on me. However, once we did get inside, I guess I could see why he was telling me to keep calm. I was already running to the first isle and throwing random items in the cart, stuff that we definitely did not need, but I wanted it anyway. 

“Jean, we don’t need that, put it back.”

“Uh, Marco, who’s paying for this? Me. So, I say we do need the apple juice.”

“You already have apple juice.”

“But I’m almost out. I only have like, half of the gallon left.”

He rolled his eyes and heaved a forlorn sigh of defeat, waving his hand dismissively. I had stolen victory over Mamma Marco once again! If we hadn’t been in public and in front of a mother with her three year old daughter, I’d have done a victory dance. But I settled for just patting him on the shoulder and smirking. I was smitten when he didn’t protest to anything else for the duration of three more isles. But, I guess even those with self control lose it every so often.

I’d decided that I needed a giant barrel of cheese balls, and when I came waltzing up to the cart about to put the thing inside, I felt it being yanked from my hands and held above my reach. We looked pretty stupid to say the least, fighting over a barrel of cheese balls, but I wanted it. Marco did not.

“Jean this is ridiculous, you are not two.”

“But I want it.”

“Do you also want diabetes?”

“If I say yes, can I get the cheese balls?”

“No. No you can’t.”

“Fuckin’ Christ Marco, since when did you start sucking total dick?”

“Since I met you. Now, go put the cheese balls back.”

I couldn’t help but blush at that statement as I begrudgingly took back the plastic barrel and waddled over to the shelf to replace them. Stupid Marco, he’s no fun sometimes. God forbid we indulge in some cheesy puffy goodness.

Soon we’d made our way over to the produce, where I snagged myself a Mighty Mango Naked and started drinking it happily as Marco browsed the vegetables. He seemed to have a particular method to picking just the right ones, but they all looked the fucking same to me. I reached forward slowly and pinched his ass, earning me a yelp and a disapproving glare from over his shoulder.

“Pick a damn squash already. They’re all the same.”

“Shush and drink your pureed fruit.”

“Hey, Hey, this shit is really fuckin’ good! Don’t knock it till’ ya try it.”

“Hm. Whatever. Hey look . . .”

I saw him wander over to the cucumbers, picking a really long and thick one up with a glint of interest in his eyes. It took me about two second to process what he was thinking before backing away hastily.

“Fuck no Marco, stop your train of thought right fucking there.”

“Oh c’mon Jean, don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to do anything like that.”

“U-Uh, I dunno but the store isn’t the place to think about it or bring it up . . .”

“Ah, I guess you’re right.”

I saw his not-so-discreetly slip the cucumber into the cart with a smirk. Damn that stupid boy, so coy and mischevious. I swore I’d get him back. But in all honesty and jokes aside, I’d actually been having a nice time with him doing the shopping. It wasn’t stressful when he was here, and our playful banters only added to it. I made him try my juice, which he spluttered upon tasting. He wasn’t much of a tropical fruit person, but I wanted to make him try it anyway. It resulted in yet another little fight in front of the strawberries, while he was searching for a box with the least rotten ones in it. 

“Marco, if you didn’t like it, you didn’t have to spit it all over your chin. That’s so gross.”

“Shut your face. It was really gross and you were the one who forced me to drink it.”

“Not my fault you couldn’t at least swallow it. What do you do when you take cough medicine?”

“Puke. I puke.”

“Blechh, dude gross. Anyway, I’d kiss you but, my mouth probably tastes like that and-“

He cut me off with his own lips. It wasn’t a sloppy kiss, nor was it to be considered passionate. It was sweet and chaste and to the point up until a slight swipe of his tongue along my bottom lip. He pulled back and smiled, probably at my wicked blush, licked his lips.

“It tastes good coming from your mouth.”

I could’ve screamed and died right there. That was so cute and shit and I’d wished we weren’t in public so I could tackle him and kiss all over his sweet face. He was good at getting me to blush, and as much as it annoyed me, I loved how he knew where all my buttons were, and when and where to push them. He was being a bit unfair this time though, because we were in the middle of the store and his stupid kiss had gotten me all flustered.

However, many a curse can be broken if given the right spell, and this spell happened to be a nasty old drunk man by the surname of Mr. Bodt. I almost groaned if it weren’t for the internal panic that was happening as the man walked up to us. Marco hadn’t noticed yet, as he was turned away still searching through the fruits. I could already smell the alcohol from where we were standing, and it didn’t make it any better that he stopped walking only about three feet away from us before he started yelling. 

“Well if it isn’t my runaway faggot son and his horse faced queer of a boyfriend.”

Marco’s neck snapped around so fast I thought he’d gotten whiplash, and I immediately scooted closer to him out of instinct. If something was going South, I always clung to Marco. It was safer to be closer to him than for either of us to be alone. I wasn’t prepared for this though. I was so happy that day. The week’s travesties had disappeared already and we hadn’t even thought about either of our parental problems out of lack of contact with them. But we’d never really considered that we still lived in the same city as his father, and that forgetfulness was coming back to bite us in the asses.

“I knew you’d left home like an ungrateful cunt, but I had no idea it was because you were goin’ off to buttfuck some lanky ass fag. Good job you piece of shit son, have fun in hell when you die because I hope you burn for sleepin’ with this guy. How disgusting. No wonder you were such a letdown of a son. I bet your mom was fuckin’ happy she ain’t had to deal with your ass once she died!” 

I wrapped my fingers around Marco’s hand and squeezed, trying hard to fight back the tears that were literally burning my eyes. They hurt. I closed my eyes and tried to block out the sadness, but it overflowed. I knew it was bad, but this was inhuman. It was immoral. It made me sick.

~Marco’s POV~

Jean and I had been having a really good day. I loved spending time with him in any way possible, even if it was simply staring at a wall. I’d expected him to act like a five year old, and I’d expected him to grab things off of the shelves and start eating or drinking them before he paid. But what I had not expected was to be verbally assaulted by a man I’d thought we’d gotten out of our lives for good. I was so used to it however, that after overcoming the initial shock of running into him, the numbness that I used to be so familiar with washed over me and I immediately tuned him out. I heard what he said, but it had not affect on me. I knew these things weren’t true. 

But when I felt the increasing pressure on my hand, I looked over at Jean and saw his normally calm and indifferent face twisted into a hurt expression I’ve only seen a handful of times. He didn’t even look angry; he just looked sad and put down, like a dog that’d been kicked repeatedly. It looked like he was about to cry, and literally nothing in the world made me angrier then when other people made Jean upset like that. 

I remembered when I’d huddle in a corner and shiver in fear of my father, scared that he’d destroy me even more than he already had. But I’d escaped that life. I made a life with Jean, and even though we’re still young and aren’t technically paying our own way, it was our life. We were happy and he’d made me forget about all of those things that hurt me and made me hate living so much. He’d fixed me, and even though I was sure I still had triggers, everyday life was calm and happy.

So why was I now allowing this man to snake his way back in and try to hurt us? Why was I standing here doing nothing when I was supposed to look out for Jean? Jean was crying, clinging to me and trembling. Whether it was out of fear, anger, or terrible sadness, I didn’t know. But I would not allow my father to hurt him. I zoned back into the current scene, my father’s slurred insults and hateful words filtering back in as I looked back up to him with the iciest glare I could muster.

“Oh so you finally decided to pay attention to me you stupid son of a bitch? Fuck you’re so worthless I can’t even believe I put up with you for sixteen years. I hope you have some kind of apology for wasting my time and money for all that time and I expect your ass to get a damn job and pay me back for all the money I spent raising you-“

“Raising me? At what point did you take the time to raise me? Other than all the times you beat me, burned me, and RAPED me, you didn’t even acknowledge that I existed! I had to go days without food sometimes and that was BEFORE I did it of my own will! You caused me so much shit since mom died and even for some time before that and you have the nerve to tell me that you raised me!?”

I pulled Jean closer to me and let him hide in my chest, feeling fulfilled for once because this time I was being strong and brave and I was not being stepped on.

“And don’t you dare talk like that about Jean. He’s been there for me more in these past few weeks more than you ever were in my 16 years of life. He’s the reason I’m alive and he’s the reason I wake up in the morning, and eat enough to keep my health, and the reason my scars don’t matter anymore. I love him and I always will, more than I ever loved you, so take yourself out of my sight before you make me sick you disgusting FUCK.”

With that, I left him gaping, stifling a giggle as people stared at him with intense hatred now that his dirty little secrets had been made public. There were several mothers that were looking at him like a target for their fury, and some fathers along with them. I found it quite amusing.

I hurried Jean to the checkout counters and paid for our things. I had to fish his wallet from his jacket pocket to get the debit card because he was still clinging to me. It only took us a few minutes because the cashier had seen what happened and knew that we wanted to leave as soon as possible. 

I let him hug me when we got on the bus, holding him close and ignoring all the strange looks we received. It felt sinfully good to be on the giving end of this sort of comfort for once, and I held him all the way to our stop, stroking his hair and whispering encouraging things to him.

~Jean’s POV~

My entire body felt tired. I was absolutely exhausted and even though the fear and sadness had left my body long ago, I needed to be near Marco. I was so scared because I immediately thought that I was going to lose him again. I thought that his father’s words would trigger him and force him back from all the progress we’d made and even though it didn’t happen right away, I couldn’t help but fear that the initial shock hadn’t subsided and he hadn’t actually started crashing yet. It was a paralyzing feeling, and all I wanted to do was hold him and not let him go so I could be one hundred percent sure he’d be okay.

Once we’d gotten home, I unlatched myself from him to help carry the groceries in and unload them. I wanted to go lay down and coddle my boyfriend, but he seemed to have other plans when he wrapped his arms around my waist and hoisted me up onto the counter, standing between my legs and pulling my forehead against his. I couldn’t help but smiled softly and thumb across his cheeks. 

“Jean, I’m okay this time. I promise. I stood up for myself because I knew what he was saying wasn’t true.”

“I’m proud of you ya know. I’m happy that you finally see your self worth like I do.”

“I know how bad that must’ve been for you, but I’m gonna be okay. Jean?”

“Hm?”

“You know what I’d really like?”

“What?”

“I’d like to cook you dinner like we planned, and then we can lay in bed and talk, and do you know what else I’d love?”

“Okay Marco, we can do that. What else?”

“I um . . . I really want you to make love to me tonight. I want you to make me forget about all the times that he ruined me.”

I felt my face burn, but I couldn’t see myself saying no. It was something I wanted, and I knew we’d love it. I nodded, burying my face into his shoulder and smiling. It felt right. I almost forgot about what had happened, but I knew that he was really gone this time, and that fact wouldn’t leave my head. I pulled him in closer and kissed his forehead, stroking the bangs from his face.

“Of course. We’ll do anything you want.”

“Hmm . . . Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too . . .”


	14. Washed Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets all domestic UH-GEN.  
> But then they Freckle-Frackle, and it's really sweet and cute  
> This whole chapter is in Marco's POV!!!! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that I wouldn't go on Hiatus . . . I just got really discouraged yesterday, and I hope I didn't worry anyone. I won't be taking a break or quitting, so please look forward to more! :)  
> Breanne helped a lot with chapter, in the sense of being my Beta and encouraging me to write it in the first place. She was really helpful so she deserves credit too. Her AO3 is riverspirit86 in case you want to read any of her fics. She's also writing a JeanMarco.

When Jean started a fire, I knew it was time to get him the hell out of the kitchen. We’d only been cooking for about ten minutes when he’d set the stove on fire, and he wasn’t even cooking anything yet. He claimed that he didn’t mean to let the pan catch fire, but honestly, who lets butter catch fire? It was just irregular. But then again, my eccentric and blunt as all hell boyfriend was very irregular in the first place, so I honestly don’t see why I’d been surprised. However, I did know that I shouldn’t have given in to his pestering to help me make dinner. My stupidity to let Jean in the kitchen did not fail to reprimand me with a large vicious fire threatening to burn our vent. 

Eventually, I’d poured enough salt into the fire to put it out, and the look on Jean’s face made me laugh hard enough to be able to forget the whole thing. It did not, however, stop me from shooing him out of the kitchen by whipping his cute ass with a dishtowel. One would think I had the patience to teach him how to cook, and as I usually would, tonight was supposed to be romantic and nice, though so far it had only been hectic. But if something in our lives were not hectic, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be our life.

We were having my mother’s baked Macaroni and Cheese dish and breadsticks. It was a relatively easy recipe, but it was so good I could barely handle my excitement over the fact that I was able to make it again after so many years. I’d already laid out all my ingredients and prepped my cooking area, albeit after cleaning up after the fire incident. Mis en Place is one of the most important fundamentals of cooking after all. I had to let the sauce thicken and add the cheese before mixing it with the pasta and layering it into the baking dish with other cheeses and breadcrumbs. It made me really happy to cook like this, and even though it wasn’t the most complex dish, it was absolutely delicious and filling. Along with the breadsticks that I was also baking from a home recipe, I was sure Jean would be melting over it.

Once I’d put the dish in to bake for 25 minutes, I poured Jean and I a glass of apple juice, since it was his favorite and basically the only thing to drink in the house, and went out to sit with him on the couch. He was still kind of pouting about his little debacle in the kitchen, but it was nothing a few kisses couldn’t fix. I did just that too, leaning into his shoulder to turn my head and kiss at his jaw and cheek.

“Oi, Marco, stop. It tickles where you’re kissing.”

“Does it really?”

I couldn’t help but smirk and continue kissing and nipping along his ticklish jaw, breathing over the peach fuzz and eliciting cute giggles from him. I loved seeing Jean this way, not trying to act all tough and like he could take on the world. He was just cute, letting go and letting me be playful and being playful right back. We spent the 25 minutes waiting for dinner that way, rolling around on the couch and living room floor trying to find each other’s tickles spots and kissing the kind of sweet kisses that aren’t meant to lead to anything more. It was wonderful.

I had to eventually pry him off of me to pull the food out of the oven and start putting servings on our plates while it was hot. I poured him more juice and placed two breadsticks on each of our plates alongside the heaps of pasta. My mouth was practically watering, and I’d assumed that Jean could smell it from the dining room, because he was already fidgeting in his seat as I approached with his plate. He took a long whiff when I set it down and immediately reached up to tug down the collar of my sweater to kiss my nose. I felt a slight blush grow on my cheeks but leaned back down after he released me to kiss his cheek. 

Once I took my seat across from him, we jokingly toasted out glasses of apple juice, sticking our pinkie fingers out and tried not to laugh so hard that we snorted juice up our noses. He dug in almost immediately after that, surprising me by remembering to blow on the bite on his fork before shoving it in his mouth with little grace. I waited for his reaction and almost burst out laughing when he moaned dramatically and slapped a hand over his forehead, pretending to faint. 

“Marco fuckin’ Bodt, this is the best thing ever. Thank you, praise Freckled Jesus.”

“I’m glad you like it. It was my mom’s recipe, the breadsticks too.”

“Ah you’re mother is a saint.”

He looked at the ceiling and pointed upwards, a hand over his heart. 

“Hear that Mrs. Bodt? You are God and your son is Freckled Jesus.”

“Maybe.Now, let’s eat this before it gets cold and hard yeah?”

He nodded once, needing no further encouragement before hauling another forkful into his mouth, humming at the taste. I myself had to hold back a whine when the taste flooded my mouth, the memories that came with the taste coming back to me in sweet succession. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was actually comforting, like my mother was in the kitchen behind me cooking away just like she used to. Except now it was my turn to make this stuff for someone I loved. 

It wasn’t long before we’d almost eaten the entire pan of pasta, and our plates now sat empty and overused on the table in front of us. He looked dead in his seat, and I thought it would be funny to continue our little tickle war from earlier while he was still immobilized. Sliding my feet along the floor, I found his and started wiggling my toes against the tops of his feat, earning me a lazy kick and a grunt. I continued however, eventually getting underneath them and mercilessly tickling the undersides of his feet. I stopped though once he started moving his foot up my leg slowly, smirking at me the whole time.

So that’s how he wanted to do things. I sat calmly, my arms crossed on my chest as I stared across at him with a bored expression. Eventually, he made his way up to my crotch, rubbing his foot expectantly between my legs. It took all my will power to not react, trying really hard to keep the stoic uninterested expression I’d had so far. However, as soon as he stared into my eyes and bit his lips as he rolled his foot especially hard, I found it one hundred percent impossible to do so. I found myself slamming my hands on the table and standing, walking hurriedly over to Jean and grabbing his wrist, effectively yanking him from his chair and dragging him straight into the bedroom.

I wanted him to take control, but so far he wasn’t having any trouble with that. It wasn’t rough, and it was by no means demanding, not one bit. He was sweet, gentle, and considerate, but the slight dominance was still there. He made it known that he was the one taking the reins this time, but he did it in a way I’d only expect from him. Jean had this fascination with my freckles, and even now as he backed me into the bed with his hands loosely gripping my waist, he seemed dead set in trying to kiss each and every freckle. Sometimes he did this to show affection, because he wasn’t particularly the best with his words. I loved it so. 

He took his time, leaning over me and kissing lightly along my cheek bones and adorning my jaw and neck with trails of almost nothingness, drawing his lips almost ghostly along the skin. It sent shivers of warmth and pleasure down my spine, and I reached up to wrap my arms around his waist to get him closer. It was getting hot, but the slowly building and beautiful kind of hot. He took a second, pulling back a bit to stare down at me with a soft smile, and thumbed over my cheek. I felt so loved, like nothing could touch me, and I never wanted it to end.

I wanted more, already hard from Jean’s playful little escapade in the dining room, so I took a small window of incentive and pulled his body down flush against mine. He smiled and leaned back down to capture my lips again, this time slowly swiping his tongue over my bottom lip and I gave him access immediately. I moaned breathlessly into the kiss, urging him to go on.

Go on he did, moving his hands under the hem of my sweater to move his nimble fingers up the contours of my waist and chest, brushing over my nipples softly as he made his way back down to pull the garment off. I gasped as the cool air hit my chest, making the urgency of his body against mine all the more needed. My breathing became a bit heavier now, the anticipation building like an avalanche, and I just needed him to make me forget. I wanted Jean to be the only one to hold refuge in my body, to be the only one who had the right to say they could touch me this way.

We continued to kiss heatedly as he rolled his hips lightly against mine, building up the friction that I was beginning to so desperately need. It felt good, so very deliciously good and sweet, the taste of his lips lingering on mine even when he wasn’t kissing me. I wanted to feel him bare against my skin, as intimate as possible. I trailed my hands down to tug lazily at his shirt, and he obliged by pulling it off slowly, sensually, being sure to let my eyes wander. I felt his warmth leave my body as he sat back on his knees to start unbuttoning my jeans and slid them off along with my boxers, hungrily taking in every inch with his eyes. He took his off too, quick to press our bodies flush against each other once again to gather my face in his hands, cupping my cheeks with feather light touches as he kissed me deeply, with so much passion that I could’ve melted. I felt weightless.

He seemed like he wanted to take his time, but the aching hardness we both felt was begging to be relieved, and the look in his eyes told me that he needed me as much as I needed him then. I nodded to him, grabbing his wrist and sliding three of his fingers in my mouth, sucking and licking them with half lidded eyes and sweet little moans that I knew drove him absolutely crazy. He stared at me as I coated his fingers, grinding his hips agonizingly slowly against mine. Finally, he pulled his fingers out of my mouth with a lewd pop, and I’d almost begun to think he’d been on the giving end once before.

Now wasn’t the time for that though, because as he spread my legs and circled his fingers around my entrance like he was trying to tease me, I nearly keened. It was so good, nothing like any other time I’d experienced this. He pressed inside of me, slowly sliding his finger in and out trying to get me used to the sensation of actually feeling good during this. Eventually, he made it to all three fingers, turning me into a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him. I was already flushed, lips swollen and wet, hung open in a lustful gape. He took his time pulling out, and reached over to grab a bottle of lube to slick up his cock before leaning forward to kiss me again. He was so considerate, always peppering my lips and face with kisses every time he moved on to something else.

Once he was sure I was okay, he leaned back a bit to line himself up and press the head of his cock inside, waiting for approval to keep going. Once I nodded, he continued to press inside of me. A long breathless moan tumbled out of my mouth at the feeling of being filled, and I immediately pulled him close to bury my face in his neck. I whispered a simple ‘move’, and he complied, pulling out slowly and setting a deep and intense pace, not too fast but just enough to make me fall apart in his arms, melting into his body as he made love to me. 

He ran his hands up my body as his thrusts gained a bit of speed, still going deep and hitting me in the perfect spot. I loved the feeling of his hands all over me, wiping away any of what was left of the other who’d touched me this way. I just wanted Jean. Only Jean. It had to be him. 

My moans were getting louder and my thighs trembled with the intense pleasure that was coursing through my body. I gasped when I finally felt his hand wrap around my cock, dripping precum and aching to be touched, pumping along with his thrusts. I could tell he was close too, his breath becoming ragged like mine, and his hips becoming more jagged in their movements, not flowing the same as they were before. He was looking at me with hunger but also so much love it almost hurt.

“Marco, I love you . . . I love you so much . . .”

“A-ah, Jean, Jean, I love you too!”

“Cum with me Marco, let me make you forget.”

I couldn’t deny him, and that voice he used made me want to turn into a puddle. My head lolled back as my back arched slowly, the orgasm building in my stomach, the coil finally snapping as I half whined, half moaned Jean’s name. I covered out stomachs in cum, breathing sporadically as I rode out my high. Jean released right alongside me, leaning down to press his forehead to my shoulder as he came inside of me with a deep moan and a shudder. As we came down from our mutual high, he held me close, not letting go of me once. I felt blessed and extraordinarily grateful to have someone like him lying next to me, littering my face and shoulders with kisses.

I clung to him, burying my face in his neck and breathing in the sweet scent of Jean and the afterglow that filled the air. I tried smiling, I really did, but I couldn’t do it. I was happy, but instead of a grin breaking out on my face like usual, I felt fresh tears scald their way down my cheeks. I couldn’t help but allow them to flow, crying almost silently against his shoulder. I let myself cry until I was practically shaking, my breath hitching every time I tried to inhale. He noticed, pulling away from me and reaching up to place his hands on each side of my face, his thumbs hurriedly swiping the tears away.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Were you not ready for that?”

I was finally able to smile, despite the tears, and I leaned into his touch as I placed my hands over his. 

“No, Jean, I’m just . . . I’m so happy. Thank you for making it go away. Thank you for making me yours and only yours. I’m so, so happy . . .”

“Marco . . .”

I couldn’t have been happier when he kissed me, a kiss so full of love and happiness that I almost couldn’t bear not crying even more. He made everything right, and there was no better feeling than the feeling I had now. He was the person who saved me, made me see that I was worth everything and more, made me realize that it was never me who was at fault for anything. He was the reason I was alive and happy with life, not even thinking about the place I had been those months ago. I was alive, because Jean picked me up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few months passed by in a blur of school, home life, new friendships, and happy memories for Jean and I. Christmas went by with great fun, consisting of sharing peppermint hot cocoa while watching claymation Christmas specials, putting up a tiny little tree, and forcing Jean to wear Santa hats to school with me. Once the winter months drew to a close, the rest of the school year flew by. I was ecstatic because I would be graduating with Jean. I’d taken the liberty of taking extra courses online in order to earn my credits early. I didn’t want to be left behind in that school so in order to go to college with Jean, I lived with the extra load. 

Even though the year was drawing to an end, and so much had happened that we didn’t want to remember, there was still so much that we weren’t willing to leave behind. Jean and I had made amazing friends whom we probably wouldn’t see again for a while, and we were even sad to say goodbye to some of our teachers. Adulthood was approaching fast, and there was only one more thing to tackle before we were officially out of this place.

Graduation.


	15. A New Chapter In Our Life Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out with the old, and in with the new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only partially beta'd. I was too tired to wait for the edit so I'm gonna replace it tomorrow, but for now here's this! It's a two part chapter because I got lazy and almost fell asleep writing this.
> 
> I'm sorry it took so long! That long of a wait won't happen again, I promise!

Graduation. It usually happens around May or June, and it’s really expensive and time consuming; the event creeping up on us like a lioness stalking its prey. I nor Marco were the least excited for this night, even though we’d worked out asses off to get here. I think we’d have been more excited if it didn’t cost us $120 for our caps and gowns, plus Senior pictures, our yearbooks, and tickets for family members. The tickets weren’t a big deal, but for some reason they included the price of them in your Senior package even if you didn’t need them. 

Anyways, the time had come, and it was currently a Friday evening. Marco and I were both in the bathroom trying to comb each other’s’ hair into a somewhat decent array, however since we’d both chosen to procrastinate on getting haircuts, the scraggly length wasn’t cooperating. We opted for the shaken when wet look. We were required to wear formal clothing under our gowns, and even though I did enjoy looking sharp, wearing all of these layers in June was gonna suck ass.

Once Marco had doused me with cologne and put his own deodorant on, he disappeared into our bedroom to get dressed. Afraid of taking five hundred years to pick an outfit, we had both laid out our clothes a few days before. He wore black slacks, a dark green button up, and a black vest with a grey tie. I chose dark grey slacks, a black button up, and a dark green tie. We both had on black belts and black shoes, except Marco wore dress shoes and I wore all black converse. He couldn’t convince me otherwise no matter how much he begged me and bribed me. I wanted comfort, dammit. 

I’d already decided that I was taking him out on a really nice date after the ceremony, because he deserved it after putting up with all of those extra classes just to stay with me through school. I know he did it because he was afraid to be alone, afraid of relapsing, but it still warmed my heart that he’d been willing to go through all of that just to stay by my side simply because I was the one who kept him happy. I felt like it was appropriate to congratulate him. I hadn’t done nearly as much as him, and even though I managed to graduate with all A’s and B’s, he took four extra courses, and pulled through with all A’s and only ONE B. One fucking B out of eleven classes in three quarters of a school year. It was incredible. I only hoped I could be that good in college. 

He’d agreed, but he said that he wanted to go Dutch on the pay. I was fine with that, as long as he went with me because I was planning a huge surprise and I was so excited about it, but also so anxious to get it over with that I thought I’d literally explode. This night would be perfect.

In order not to starve through the ceremony, we both decided to go ahead and have a small snack before we left, so I heated us some hot pockets and plopped down on the couch next to my cute freckly lover to hand him his. 

“So, you excited about tonight? I know I am. It’s gonna be so long though . . .” 

“Ah, yeah. Hopefully no one talks for too long and the valedictorian’s speech isn’t too long. Eh, it was Mikasa right?”

I almost giggled at the name; to think I’d been so infatuated with her just a year ago was a laughable fact. I hadn’t even looked her way since I’d met Marco.

“Yeah, she’s top of our class. I still can’t believe Eren fucking Jeager out-ranked me though . . . I’m gonna be mad about that forever.”

“Oh Jean, please don’t start being angry all the time . . . Don’t turn into the thing that you hate.”

He giggled sweetly, covering his mouth in that stupidly cute way he does when he laughs with food in his mouth. I almost wanted to laugh with him, but thinking about that green eyed jackass always put me in a bad mood. However, tonight I was going to try my best to swallow my pride and get along with everyone, because graduation is supposed to be a good night of saying goodbyes, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I might actually miss Jaeger too. 

But back to the task at hand. We’d finished our snack and it was now time to start walking if we wanted to get there on time. Obviously we weren’t going to walk down the street in our caps and gowns, so we folded them neatly, mostly because Marco reprimanded me on my folding job, into our backpacks. I couldn’t help but smile as we walked out of the apartment, because the next time we walked into this place, we’d be official adults. How nostalgic. 

Not even a year ago, I’d lived here alone, bored, and had the type of outlook on life that may have one day landed me sofa hopping and friendless. I had C’s and F’s in school, not a single person to talk to, and I simply stopped caring. Now, I had Marco, a small but tightly knit group of friends who I loved dearly, and my home was warm and welcoming and beautiful and I was graduating 6th of my class. I couldn’t have asked for a better end to my year. 

As Marco and I walked, I slid my fingers between his softly, stroking the back of his hand with my thumb. I earned a slight blush and a smile, which made me smile in turn. God, I really love him. How cute he is when he gets all flushed from a single touch. I held his hand the whole way to the stadium, not even letting go when he broke into a run once he saw Connie, Sasha, Armin, Mikasa, and Eren. 

With a few quick hello hugs, minus one from me to Jaeger, we all started to find our seats. Since we were in alphabetical order, I wouldn’t get to sit near Marco. Instead I was seated next to people who I didn’t know at all, which just made me want to leave. I had to bite my tongue though, because if I tried to be a dick and leave, Marco would get mad and wouldn’t go out with me later that night, which was a very important date. There was no way in hell I was letting this opportunity slip away. 

The ceremony started about half an hour after we sat down, the principal and school board directors all standing in their stifling formal wear. Most of the men up there, and even most of the other male students, wore coats with their suits, and I could see a smirk on Marco’s face because we’d been smart and dressed as lightly as possible. I actually pulled off an interested face as they spoke, but I wasn’t really paying any attention. My mind was elsewhere, going over some very important words in my head.

When it was time for us to go up to retrieve our diplomas, they called everyone with the last name starting with A to stand in a line at the side of the stage. Once there were only a few people left for A, they called up B, and so on. When Marco walked across, I snapped his picture with my phone and he gave me a thumbs up and blew me a kiss, which I pretended to catch and shove in my pocket. We received a multitude of “aww’s”. 

After that, it was a while before the K’s were called up. I was outrageously bored but I had to get over it, and I did so by staring at Marco the whole time. He looked gorgeous beneath the stadium lights, his cheekbones very, very defined. I had to think of old people and other un-sexy things to keep myself from popping a boner. I swear I’m too lewd sometimes. I mean, for crying out loud. I’m at graduation and I still can’t control my libido. 

I shook my head and focused just in time to hear the principal call up the K’s, and I yawned when I stood and started walking behind the short line to the side of the makeshift stage. When I was called across, I waved down to Marco and blinked when the flash went off. I blew him a kiss as well, but instead of catching it and putting it in his pocket, he pressed it to his lips and I couldn’t help but giggle and grin hugely. 

After that I really didn’t pay attention whatsoever. I couldn’t have cared less about Mikasa’s speech. I didn’t mean it in a rude way, but she had a habit of speaking in a drawl tone, and mix that with boring school speeches and you’ve got a ticket to snooze-ville. I actually almost did fall asleep. I would have if it wasn’t for a message that Marco had sent through like, fifteen people to tell me to keep my ass awake. It was laughable at best, but I still listened to him. 

But it did eventually end in a flurry of green and black caps being thrown into the air and a loud bunch of screams from my whole class. I only tossed my cap a few feet in the air because I didn’t want to spend an hour trying to find it, and I didn’t scream. I saw that Marco did though, and I also saw him throw his hat with much zeal, much to my disdain because now I had to help the dolt find it. Speaking of which, now I could go back to clinging to Marco’s side, which I did, along with the rest of our friends. 

We spent a while talking and going on about who was going to what college, who was planning on going straight to work, who planned on living together, etcetera. It really was fun, and it wasn’t like I was in a hurry to say goodbye to my favorite people in my life, yes even Eren, but I had reservations at a restaurant in forty five minutes and I’d be damned if I was gonna lose them. So, I nudged Marco in the side and nodded towards the exit. We all gave everyone hugs, some lingering longer than others. In particular, I decided to awkwardly wrap my arms around Eren’s shoulders and rest my chin on his shoulders, mumbling not-as-grumpily-as-I’d-have-liked into his ear. 

“Take care of yourself Jaeger. Don’t get thrown in jail or like, die or something . . .”

“Uh, I won’t. You too, Jean. Take care of Marco okay?” 

“Planning on it kid. Be good now. I won’t be there to kick your ass back into line anymore.”

I found myself smiling fondly as a pulled away and ruffled his hair like a brother would. I waved again to everyone else and took Marco’s hand, walking away. I knew I’d see all of them again, but Mikasa, Armin, and Eren were going to school in Sina, so they’d be about an hour away, and Sasha and Connie would still be local, but both were double majors, so they’d be busy. It was okay though. Everyone was happy, including Marco and I, and I couldn’t have asked for anything else. 

We started walking to the restaurant, our gowns packed away and our caps sitting crookedly on our heads. I put music on my phone and let it play out loud as a background, First Dance by NeverShoutNever playing as I walked on the cement ledge of the sidewalk. I gripped Marco’s hand and sang along as we walked and I literally couldn’t have felt happier because it was so ideal and cute that I could do it all day forever. He couldn’t stop smiling, and that made me so damn happy. 

We made it to the restaurant about twenty minutes later, early for our reservation. I rattled off the usual “Kirschtein. Reservation for two.” And both of us were immediately led to a booth by the front window, giving us a pleasant view of the street and surrounding shops. It was gorgeous in this place. The booth we sat in wasn’t lined with the usual sticky fake leather, but with soft velvety cloth, deep blue in color. The table was a deep brown polished wood, adorned only with a salt and pepper shaker and a small dish of sugar. The lighting, low and warm, but still bright enough to be able to see without squinting, made Marco’s face glow with happiness and content. There was a dance floor in the center, with a few elderly couples cutely swaying to the classical music and the sultry female vocalist flowing through the speakers, and I noted that I would have Marco dance with me by the end of the night.

“Marco, will you dance with me after dinner?”

“U-Uh, sure. Why do you want to do that though?”

“Huh? Why? Well . . . I love you and I want to dance with you. I don’t really have another legit reason besides that.”

He blushed cutely and smiled, reaching across the table to take my hand in his.

“Okay then. I’ll dance with you, but after we eat. I’m starving.”

“Fine, Fine. What are you gonna get?”

“I feel like steak and a baked potato, maybe some steamed vegetables.”

I smiled at that, proud of him for eating such a good meal. Ever since Marco had begun gaining his confidence back, he’d been researching how to eat substantially but also healthily. He told me that just because he planned on getting back to a healthy weight didn’t mean he planned on doing it through junk food. Even though I knew he usually tended to get carried away with anything relating to potatoes, I never said anything. He didn’t need someone reprimanding him about food ever again in his life. I nodded across to him, a silent permission to get something that probably cost an arm and a leg in a place like this. 

“I think I’m gonna have . . . Lobster tail with scalloped potatoes and asparagus.”

“Ah yes, you and your seafood . . .”

I loved seafood and Marco basically hated it with a passion. The only seafood I could ever get in his mouth was fried shrimp, and even then, it had to be smothered in tartar sauce. So basically when all was said and done, he just ate a clump of fried batter covered in mayonnaise and relish. It was kinda gross. 

We sat and talked for a while before the waitress came and took our orders, along with drinks, which landed me with a water and a Dr. Pepper, and Marco with a water and unsweetened tea. I couldn’t help but be unable to tear my eyes from him, even when I was ordering. He looked so good tonight, and I was nervous for a multitude of reasons. Nervous, because tonight was the start of the next step, the beginning of a portion of our life together that may or may not be packed with hardships. Nervous, because this is Marco and even though it was mutually agreed a long time ago that neither of us needed impressing, I still found myself always hopeful, even now, that the things I did made Marco happy. Nervous, because, well . . .

I was letting my thoughts wander. I was shaken back into reality when Marco started talking, telling me about how much he’d miss everyone, and wondering out loud how college would be for us.

“I’m happy, Jean, that I got to graduate with you. It was worth the hard work, really.”

“I’m glad too . . . I would’ve hated college without you. I hope we have classes together.”

“Probably only a few. Just pre-requisites most likely. Our actual major classes are totally different though.”

“Yeah I doubt an art major and writing major will have the same classes.”

“True . . . I just hope you don’t make any enemies like you did in high school. I worry about you.”

“Hey freckle-face, calm your ass. I’ll be fine because I have you to go home to, don’t I? I should worry about you.”

“Ah, I guess roles never change do they?”

“Not at all, sweetie.”

He giggled again, sending cupid’s fucking arrow through my heart once again. Our conversation carried on a bit longer until our food came out, the steaming and decadent plates sat in front of our drooling mouths. We dug right in, albeit politely, mind you, and I instantly moaned softly at the taste. It was incredible, smooth, buttery, and cooked to perfection. Marco sliced a piece of his steak off and put it on my plate, insisting I try it. I’m glad he insisted.

The food was incredible, living up to the restaurant’s expensive air, look, and most of all, price. I was content and satisfied. I’d noticed that the place had filled up substantially as we ate, more and more couples filing onto the dance floor to sway and twirl lovingly with their significant other. I longed to dance with Marco like that, and once we’d polished our plates and relaxed a bit, washing our meal down with the water we’d ordered, I found myself standing. I took a few steps to stand on the other side of Marco, holding out my hand to a blushing freckled beauty. 

“Marco, may I have this dance?”

“O-oh. Of course.”

He took my hand and stood, following behind me to the dance floor as a very pretty song came on. It was slow and melodic, enough to slow dance to, but still upbeat enough to be fun. He seemed stiff, so I kissed his nose sweetly and smiled at him, placing my hand at the small of his back and intertwining our fingers. 

“Now, just follow along with me and you’ll be fine.”

I whispered it to him, knowing he was only slightly uncomfortable because he’d never slow danced before. It was adorable. As I led him through a dance, I found him relaxing more and more, pulling me closer and closer until I found that he’d taken the lead and my head was leaning softly on his chest. I didn’t mind it, mostly because I liked that Marco had found the confidence to take the lead. 

When the song ended, I pulled back and smiled at him, leaning up to kiss his lips and caress his cheeks in my hands. I felt the heat of his blush sneak back up.

“Marco, you’re so cute.”

“Stop it, am not.”

“When you argue like that, you just justify me even more.”

He leaned over, burying his face in my shoulder, and when the next song started, it seemed that he didn’t plan on moving. I did though. 

I pushed him back up, positioning us to start dancing again. Halfway through this song, I looked up at him, and decided that it was now or never, and I picked now. Right now.

“Marco . . .”

“Hm?”

How precious . . . He was so into it, so serene. It just made it easier.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I know it hasn’t even been a year since I met you, and we’ve got so much to worry about in our future. I know that a lot of people have made it hard for us, for you, and I know that neither of us planned on being a lifeline for the other. But it’s so beautiful to be someone’s lifeline, and to have them be yours, isn’t it? I just love you so much. You bring warmth and happiness into my life, and you give me a purpose. You make me so excited to get up in the morning, and I just know that I don’t need to worry anymore. I don’t need to be afraid and neither do you. I love you Marco. Please, give me one less thing to worry about in the future . . .”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the black velvet box, opening it and placing it in my palm as I pulled away from him to kneel down and hold it out to him.

“Marco, will you marry me?”

The look on his face was almost unexplainable. There was overbearing joy, relief, happiness, a bit of confusion, and a steady stream of tears that flowed past an aching smile. His fingers sat splayed across his cheeks and jaw, his shaky giggled breaking through as he fell into my arms and hugged me tight.

“Yes! Yes, Jean, I will!” 

There was applause from the crowd of people who I hadn’t even realized were watching, Marco’s and my laughter resonating through the noise. I felt so happy, so exalted, so . . . free knowing that this was reality. Marco said yes. All of the preparation and nervousness and rehearsal had all been for the best, a very enthusiastic ‘YES’ the result. I found myself crying as well, pulling him up to stand and grabbing his left hand to slide the ring on his finger. He wiped his tears with his one hand as I did so, holding his hand up with his fingers splayed as he watched the silver band glimmer in the dim lights. I took his right hand in my left, now adorned with the same silver band that was on Marco’s left hand, and started to lead him from the restaurant, people congratulating and cheering for us the whole way out. 

“Come on . . . let’s go home and celebrate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We walked home completely glued onto one another. I absolutely refused to let go of his hand, and he kept leaning over to kiss me as we walked. I was excited to get home. I just wanted to hold him and kiss him because I was so damn happy that he said yes, so much that I wanted to shout it from the roof top. I was glad that we didn’t meet any problems at the restaurant, and it simply added on to all the good things that were happening that day. I was sure that everyone would be so happy for us.

Once we finally made it home, we ran up to Christa to show off our rings, which earned us a squeal and a huge hug. However, she knowingly waved us off to our room because she could see it in our eyes how badly we wanted to be alone. I was glad that she was so relaxed about it.

I fumbled with our keys, dropping them once and shoving in the wrong one a multitude of times. Marco sighed in a lovingly annoyed way from behind me, already trailing little kisses down the nape of my neck, causing me to shiver with anticipation. I FINALLY got the damn door open and walked in, throwing my bag to the floor and turned around to wrap my arms around Marco’s neck. I leaned up to kiss him hotly, wet lips against my own as his breath hitched in his throat when I rolled my whole body flush against his. He responded by reaching around my body, cupping my ass in his obscenely large hands. I couldn’t stifle the moan that slid from my lips against his.

I found my clothes being shed at an alarming pace, Marco’s hands not fumbling once when unbuttoning my vest, shirt, and pants or when loosening and pulling off my tie. I tried to do the same, my trembling the result of the intense desire to ravage Marco’s sweet body after such an amazing night. I needed him so badly.

He sensed it, helping me along with his undressing until we were both in nothing but our boxers. I pulled him hastily into the bedroom, kissing him with such vigor that our teeth just barely missed clacking together as I carefully led him backwards to the bed. I pushed him onto the bed and lay on top of him, rolling my hips into his while my lips were busy kissing hot trails up and down his neck. I was sure there would be plenty of little purple bruises left over, but Marco had told me time and time again how much he didn’t mind this kind of bruise.

Once we were both moaning and panting against each other, already sweaty and flushed, I sat up to pull off Marco’s boxers, his cock standing in a hard curve against his stomach. I smirked and leaned down, pressing a wet kiss to the tip. I really enjoyed watching him squirm like that. I then removed my own boxers, tossing them to the side as I wiggled my way a bit lower to kiss along Marco’s hips and stomach, dipping my tongue teasingly in his naval while my hands rested on his knees. He stared down at me with intense desire in his eyes, whimpering and bucking his hips when my teeth scraped lightly up his inner thigh. 

I felt my own cock twitch, heavy and red with need. I tried not to get too worked up though, because I wanted to pleasure Marco. Pleasure him until he fell limp against me and slept with a huge grin on his face like he always did after good sex. I stared up at him, lust evident in my gaze, and licked wetly from the base of his cock to where precum pooled at the slit. I had to hold his hips down as I suckled wantonly on the head, moaning and flicking my tongue against it. I did that for a while and eventually his bucking turned into pleasurable rolls of his body, after which I decided to take him all in at once, sliding my wet lips down to the base. I sucked hard, pulling off very slowly as the intense suction made him toss his head back into the pillow and moan loudly. 

When I had only the head in my mouth again, I plunged down once more, hollowing my cheeks and bobbing my head while I moaned around his cock. I could tell it sent waves of pleasure up his spine because he finally reached down to grip my hair and started bucking into my mouth, grunts of need leaving his lips. We were both a sweaty mess, and when he came in my mouth, I was ready, keeping my lips latched around the organ to swallow every last drop. I thought of it as desert, and judging by the playful glint in his eye, he did too.

He seemed to think that was it for his end of the stick, but he was wrong. I climbed back up his body, laying flush against him, and kiss him, my tongue wandering inside and rubbing his own essence against his taste buds. He moaned, a bit wantonly actually, at the gesture, and reached up to hold my hips firm against his as he rolled against me. I could feel that he was already getting hard again, and that just spurred me on more. I pulled away from our kiss to whisper huskily against his lips, knowing how much of a sucker he was for dirty talk. 

“Marco, baby, tell me what you want. Tell me.”

“O-ooh, Jean please, please fuck me. Make me feel good. Take me HARD.”

“Mmm, just what I like to hear . . .”

I sat up between his legs, spreading them as far as was comfortable for him, and admired his body. He long ago stopped being embarrassed by my need to look at him everywhere, instead welcoming it and eroticizing it, it actually turning him on more when I raked my eyes across him this way. He moaned under me, wiggling a bit to expose himself even more. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I brought my fingers to my own mouth, ready to give him a little show, and took our cocks in my other hand, stroking us together as I sucked my fingers like a little whore. He loved it, I know he did, and the extra friction on his cock was enough to make him uncontrollably buck into my hand. I let my fingers go with a lewd pop and eyed his puckered entrance as I positioned a first finger to press it inside. I knew it had been a while since he’d bottomed, so I went slowly, even though my body was begging to just demolish his pretty hole. 

He whimpered a bit, but as I wiggled and prodded deeper into him, the whimpers became whines and moans of pleasure. His hips rolled down to meet my finger and when I pressed a second inside, he let out a strangled cry of relief. I scissored them and searched inside of him for the little bundle of nerves that would make his back arch off the bed and my name be screamed from his swollen lips.

I pressed those fingers in deeper and harder and faster, relishing in the sweet moans I received. Eventually I’d added a third finger and reduced him to a trembling, sweaty, flushed, whimpering mess, his rolling and bucking hips down onto my fingers SCREAMING that he was ready. He was ready for my cock and that thought made me bite my lips in excitement.

I finally, to Marco’s relief but also displeasure, removed my fingers and spit in my hand, stroking my cock to prepare it for my needy lover. He looked up at me through glazed eyes, a trail of saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth to his neck. It was so hot I almost couldn’t take it. And I wasn’t even fucking him yet. 

I positioned myself at his entrance and with a barely-there nod from Marco, I started to press inside, groaning at the deliciously warm tightness. I couldn’t help it when my hips stuttered a thrust out as I was pressing inside, but the moan I received told me that it was anything but painful. Once I was completely inside, I looked at Marco for approval to move, but was surprisingly met with his hips sloppily rolling against me, trying to get me to move. When he wanted it, he wanted it.

I happily obliged, pulling out only to ram back inside, snapping my hips forward with force. I rolled and gyrated my hips as I began to thrust in and out, trying to find Marco’s sweet spot. His legs were already wrapped around my waist, the heels of his feet digging into the small of my back as if to push me further and further inside.

“A-ah! Jean, please, fuck me HARD. I need MORE!”

I replied with only a loud groan and my hands found his hips, holding onto them as I picked up my pace and pounded him relentlessly. It felt so good, so damn good. I laid my forehead against his and moaned and panted as I thrust into him, shuddering in pleasure when he tightened around me as I finally thrust into his sweet spot. I hit it repeatedly, basking in the way he moaned and whimpered and tightened around me. 

“Jean, Jean, Yes Jean more! More! G-gonna cum baby PLEASE!”

“Oh god Marco, cum for me, do it, wanna-ah!-wanna make you feel good . . .”

I slammed into him one last time before he gave in, moaning loudly and arching off the bed as he came all over his chest. When he tightened around me that time, my vision went white with pleasure and I found my hips stuttering and slowing when I released inside of him. It took me a few more thrusts before both of us had ridden out our orgasms, and I collapsed next to him on the bed, panting and spent. I wiggled closer to him, using a pair of boxers to clean his chest off before snuggling up to him and kissing lazily at his face.

“You were . . . so good Marco . . . so good.”

“Mmm, you were too . . . I’m so happy.”

“Me too. I’m so happy you said yes . . . and what a great way to celebrate.”

“Of course I said yes. I could never imagine being with anyone except you, Jean.”

I smiled and kissed him softly, stroking the dark chocolate locks from his face.

“Me either.”

“Hey . . . Jean. What about your parents? How are you gonna tell them? You kinda need them to pay for the wedding, and they have to know about us to do that . . .”

Well, shit. I hadn’t thought about that part. I’d been so wrapped up in trying to make the proposal perfect that I hadn’t even planned that far. It wasn’t like I thought he’d say no, but I just suck at planning ahead. 

“Uh, well . . . I guess I’ll just have to tell them.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if they refuse to help pay for it?”

“They need to realize that I’m their son, and if I’m happy, that’s what matters. At least I’m finishing school . . . That should count as something.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. Let’s just go to sleep and we’ll worry about it tomorrow. Tonight is special, and it’s time for sleep.”

“. . . Yeah. You’re right. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Goodnight love.”

“G’night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be Jean getting to know Marco better, Marco opening up to Jean and being his actual cheery self, and stuff like that! Thank you for reading, I hope you like it so far!


End file.
